Sometimes I get the distinct impression that I'm living in a comic strip......and I'm the straight man. This morning was a perfect example. I'm leaving for work with my hands full (backpack, coffee, mail, etc.), and I step outside and push the door shut with my elbow, but it doesn't catch. So I bang it with my foot, my back and, finally, my butt. Still no luck. I put everything down and pull open the door, so I can examine the frame, and, looking down, I see a small rock in the corner that might be the culprit. Figuring it must have dropped there when I opened the door, I reach down, remove the rock and slowly ease the door closed. Pushing the door with the slightest amount of pressure, I hear the audible 'click' as the latch pops into place and locks. Satisfied, I pick up my things, turn to leave and immediately realize that I don't have my keys.
My hands full and the blank expression on my face would have been an appropriate last panel for the strip. I'm really glad the follow-up strip didn't have me remembering the extra set of keys in my backpack the moment
after I broke the window to get back in. The fact that I remembered the keys before freaking out helped improve my mood, substantially, and it is with that thought that I share a strip:
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