Operation Christmas: The Big Finish!

Having read my previous posts, you might've come to the conclusion that Operation Christmas is toeing the line between "success" and "disaster." But that's not the case. I mean, sure, sometimes you trip on a gnome. Sometimes there's ice and your car fishtails magnificently, proving without a doubt that you would make the worst getaway driver in history. But most of our excursions to the Smith family's residence have not been noteworthy; it's usually just a simple drop-off. Occasionally, Keira and I will do it on our way to the dentist's office or the grocery store. The other day I went with Tara, and we literally paused the conversation for thirty seconds while I hopped out and did the deed, then continued chatting about video games once I'd hopped back in. So, no, every day of Operation Christmas is not an adventure riddled with disaster and hilarity. But yesterday certainly was.

I was on my own. I swung by the Smiths' house and pulled up to the curb, as usual. I jumped out and placed the present on their porch, as usual. I stumbled in my haste and almost face-planted it in the snow, as usual. And that's when the usual stopped, because I legged it down the driveway and realized I WAS LOCKED OUT OF MY CAR. Ahhh!

There was a van in the Smiths' driveway, so I knew they were home, and I was so filled with panic that my first instinct was to ditch the car and just take off sprinting. I actually took a few steps down the street before doubling back, so it looked like I was doing this stupid, panic-stricken little jig. My train of thought went something like this: WHAT ARE YOU DOING? You can't just LEAVE your CAR! Right in front of their HOUSE! What is this, amateur hour? Do something else! Something clever! Something that isn't stupid! And so I whipped out my phone and did something stupid, which was to call my friend Kathryn, who lived across the country and did not even know that Operation Christmas was a thing.

"I'm screwed!" I yelled as soon as she picked up.

"What?"

"I'm locked out of my car! I need a hanger! THEY'RE GOING TO FIND ME!"

There was a pause. I'm assuming she was choosing which conversational direction to take. There were a few options to consider, but she went with "Who's going to find you?"

"Why?" I moaned to myself. "Why do I do the things that I do?"

There was a sigh. "Calls like this should no longer surprise me," she said, "but they still do."

I was ducking behind my car like I was expecting a hail of gunfire to explode from the other side. My mind was blank. I had absolutely no clue where to go from here. For some people, panic makes them think more clearly. I am not one of those people. Panic wreaks havoc on my ability to process information... which might explain what happened next. I was crouched behind my car, looking more and more like a call to the police just waiting to happen, when my keys fell out of my pocket. Let me say that again. They. Fell. Out. Of. My. Pocket.

You know when you do something so many times that it completely throws you for a loop when you change it up? For instance, I always, always, always put my phone in a certain pocket in my bag. Now, this is not the most convenient pocket for cell phone storage, and it has to be zipped and unzipped, and sometimes the zipper refuses to cooperate, and it's just a hassle. But I always put my phone there. I have to. It's an ingrained habit. So one day, I randomly decided to put my phone in a more easily accessible pocket. Flash forward four hours, at which point I have completely forgotten this whimsical notion and am convinced that my phone has been stolen. I'm so used to having it in one particular pocket that it does not even occur to me to check the others.

That entire anecdote was mostly a sorry attempt at justifying my act of stupidity in front of the Smith house. I was so used to leaving my keys in the car that the one time I didn't spawned a total collapse of order in the logic and reasoning portion of my brain.

"Uh, never mind," I said to Kathryn quickly. "I... gotta go."

"You owe me an extensive explanation via text," she said, and hung up.

And that's the story of day nine, which was a little package of Milk Duds and assorted milk chocolates for "nine maids a-milking." My brother Alex will be helping me with day ten, which is this adorable sterling silver pin of a reindeer mid-leap that I found on Black Friday (for "ten lords a-leaping"). Tomorrow, day eleven, will be a copy of The Pied Piper of Hamelin, and finally day twelve will be a drummer ornament, along with a copy of The Twelve Days of Christmas, which pretty much wraps up Operation Christmas!

It's been a very merry journey, Sparklers! I honestly don't know what the Smiths thought about this whole ordeal, but I can only hope we brightened their Christmas a little. THANK YOU for all the encouraging comments, and remember that you, too, can be a Christmas ninja. (But only if you wear the ski mask. Now imagine that during all of this, I was running around at night wearing a ski mask. That puts an entirely different spin on this tale, doesn't it?)

Anyway... merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

Merry Christmas, Elodie (and errrvrybody else)! Seriously Sparklers, how SWEET was this idea? And the panic attacks just add to the appeal, in our opinion.

Related post: Operation Christmas 1, 2, and 3