In The Jailhouse

One year, I helped my daughter with her taxes. She gave me an iPod as a thank you. I’d never had one. Overnight, it transformed me into a modern woman.

I wanted to listen to it constantly. That first week, I didn’t have an iTrip so I used the headset as I drove (which was insane if you think about it). My boss was out of town. With no one at the office, I turned up the music and went about my job. I was having a great time until . . .

One afternoon, I went to run errands, headset in place, music blaring.  I got back to the office, carried in a few bags, went to my desk, checked the phone. No messages. I kept the music on and began working. The phone rang, but I didn’t recognize the number. I let it go to the voice mail.

A few minutes later, I looked out the window. Two policemen were walking up the sidewalk toward the office.

I ripped off the headset.

The alarm was squalling. I had forgotten to turn it off. I hadn’t even heard it.

If they could have arrested me for a red face, I’d have been long gone.