Lamb Eats Crow

     After a happy, but harried week of herding kindergartners through Vacation Bible School, I needed to stop at the bank and store on my way home. I usually go to a small drive up branch, but I do not actually use the drive through. I park and go to the three window walk in area. The reason--the drive through line was driving me crazy. Drive up transactions should go like this:

   1.  Greet teller
   2.  Insert check or deposit in the container, put in tube, push send.
   3.  Teller verifies what you want to do, completes transaction and sends container back.
   4.  Remove contents, say thank you, leave.

However, this is seldom the process for the drivers in front of me. By the length of their transactions and the number of times the container goes back and forth, I can only conclude the other drivers are unfamiliar with English, math, or playing some sort of ping pong with the teller using the plastic container. While speculating on possible reasons for the delay is interesting, actual waiting is frustrating, so I skip the drive through and go inside. Since there are only six parking spots, the line cannot be very long and, if some customer has a lengthy transaction, at least I can overhear the reason.
     But, as I said, that branch has only six parking spaces and one of those is for handicapped.  So when I pulled up Friday there were no empty spots but, almost immediately, a woman came out of the bank and got in her car. I waited for her to back out. Waited. Waited. And waited. Apparently she was using one of those five precious spots to balance her bank statement, check phone messages, or give herself a manicure. But that was no problem because another woman came out of the bank and got in her car. She could not possibly fail to notice my car hovering there waiting for a parking spot, but she also decided to day camp in her car. I couldn't honk. The Lord won't allow me to have a working car horn because He knows my husband would use it to blow his testimony. Frustrated, I decided to buy groceries first and return to the bank afterwards. How could those drivers be so clueless?
    I was still mulling over the injustice of it all, and had almost reached the door at Super One, when I realized I didn't have my car keys. I was afraid in my distraction I had locked them inside the car. When I went back to check, my keys were in the ignition, which is where they should be when the car is running. I had forgotten to shut off my car. How could I be so clueless? Call it instant karma or a humility lesson. I call it--Lamb eats crow.