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Remember the blizzard last week when I couldn’t get into my car and had to have my brother pick me up to take me to my mother’s so I could steal borrow her car so I could go to work? I got to work at 8:45, which meant I had to park in the North Forty. As people started going to lunch, I decided to be smart and move the car.

But remember how the company went smoke-free on January 1? And how you can’t smoke on their property, even if you’re in your own (or your mother’s) car?

I got the keys and went outside, walked six miles to the car, got in, started it and noticed my cigarettes sitting on the seat.

Why not? Well, because there are security cameras in the parking lots and on the building and I’m not that lucky.  So I drove to a convenience store. I pulled in the driveway and drove past a state trooper’s car. I parked a little ways down, lit up and started tormenting texting Leslie. The cop walked by and I looked up and smiled at him because I’m a friendly, outgoing person.

Then I looked down at the passenger seat. The empty passenger seat. The empty passenger seat where my purse would normally be. The purse that contains the wallet which contains my driver’s license. The purse that was in my desk drawer, which is located at my desk, which was located in a building about half a mile away.

As I was pulling out of the parking lot, I saw the trooper in my mirror as he was walking out of the store.  I pulled into traffic and immediately hit a red light. I started thinking about how I was going to explain what I was doing with no identification, driving a car that was not registered to me, that belonged to a person who had no idea I was using it.

I made it back to work without getting arrested (or even pulled over).

But it was the longest half mile of my life.