Scoop’s Corner: The importance of keys

Samantha Cooper
Staff Writer

Yesterday morning, I locked myself out of my dorm room. Again. That’s the third or fourth time this semester. And here’s the funny part: I locked myself out after trying to make sure not to lock myself out.
It was Saturday morning, my roommate was at Towson for the day, and I needed to take a shower. I originally planned to take my keys with me in order to avoid repeating a previous incident where I got locked out of my room after showering. Instead, I decided to use the door stop. I tossed my keys on my dresser and went to the bathroom. Afterwards, I got dressed, packed my stuff, and headed to Alice’s for breakfast before a long day of writing essays. Halfway there, I realized that my keys and wallet were in my room. I was not only locked out of my room, but the hall as well. Rather than calling public safety, I went to the Ath. I didn’t want to waste any time, so I texted my roommate, borrowed two dollars from a friend for a bagel, and settled in for a long day.
I got lucky. My roommate came back early, and I was able to buy lunch myself.
My roommate has also locked herself out, and one time we both were locked out together. There was a fire drill in the middle of the night and we ran out as fast as we could. We remembered to put on shoes and take our cell phones but neither of us grabbed our keys. We ended up having to call Public Safety to let us back in the room after they had dealt with the alarm. Needless to say, I felt like an idiot. Seriously, I should be able to remember my keys by now. I’m eighteen years old!  I should be able to remember my keys!
When people in my hall see me wandering around, they now ask me whether I locked myself out again.  It’s nice that they’re concerned, but I can take care of myself. Even I forget things sometimes.  I forget to eat sometimes. I forget the day of the week when I wake up. I forget to be bring certain books to the library when I need to go to the library if I don’t pack it all in my backpack in the morning, hence the thirty pound monstrosity I lug around. I’d forget my head at least once a month if it weren’t attached. I almost missed an appointment with a professor the other day, and I can’t praise the iPhone calendar enough for reminding me. I wouldn’t be able to survive without it.
But honestly, as long as I remember my homework, shoes and underwear, I’ll be fine. If I forget one of those (or a deadline), I will admit to having an issue. Until then, I’m in firm denial that I’m forgetful; I am human.



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