I went to class yesterday morning in the rain so driving home I had my lights on.
I have this trick of putting a big plastic turtle in my lap when I have my car lights on during the day so I won't forget to turn them off. Well, I double-parked to take my two big laundry baskets into the laundromat---taking the turtle off my lap to do so---and then moved the car a block to park.
During the two hours it took me to do four loads of laundry the sun came out and I could walk the block back to my car without getting everything wet. But my #%&*! electronic key wouldn't work, so I used it like a regular key to open the door, pulled up the lock buttons to open the back door to put my laundry baskets in, and then used the key to try and start the car---and that's when I figured out my battery was dead. Sure enough, the lights had been left on.
And one of those things would have set off the alarm if there'd been enough juice, but instead a red light on the dash kept clicking at me. (I had to get out the manual to figure out what that blinking/clicking red light meant.)
I called AAA, hoping not to be left on Hold until my cell battery ran down, and I got lucky: he came right away. As soon as he put the charger on, it gave the alarm the juice it needed, which he knew to put the key in the ignition to stop.
After the AAA guy left, I discovered it had knocked out my radio, which told me in bold letters, "Enter Code." What code? I called Honda, they told me where to find the code on the impossible to read, outside edge of the opened glove compartment, where only a car-radio thief would know to look. I had to open the car door and contort myself nearly upside down to read it, and the code didn't work, perhaps because I'd already tried punching a button or two to guess at it. Since I had to keep the car running for 15-20 minutes to charge the battery I drove down to the dealer's on So. Van Ness, thinking it'll probably work once I've turned off the ignition and turned it back on again - and that is indeed what happened.
And so, now I have to remember to keep that bloody big turtle tucked in my waistband, or something, or it will happen again someday, you can bet on it.
Work, work, work. But the ugly floor is cleaner, the walls are freshly painted, and soon we'll be back to what passes for normal here.