So, back in December I was at an Advanced Craniosacral Therapy training program just outside of Boston. It was four full days (8:30-6:30) of training which made it necessary for me to stay at the hotel.

Along with the essentials – extra socks, underwear, toothbrush, etc. – I also brought my personal journal. Something told me I might want to leave it at home. After all, I was sharing a room with a total stranger (get your head out of the gutter, it was another woman taking a workshop) and what if she saw it when I wasn’t in the room and read it? No worries, I’d keep it with me in a book bag, where I’d also carry my snacks, course workbook and water. Problem solved!

So off to the hotel I went. The workshop was intense (awesome-but intense). A couple of mornings I woke up at 5am and quietly crept out of the room with my journal. I’d get a coffee and sit by the fireplace in the library room and write (yes, can you believe it? The hotel actually had a library room! Pretty cool). The intensity of the work we were doing brought up a lot of juicy stuff for reflection.

By day four when the workshop was over, I was physically, mentally and emotionally beat. As I was unpacking my things at home, a slow sense of panic and dread started to creep over me. Where is my journal??? Okay, don’t panic, don’t panic, okay, went thru the book bag – not there. BREATHE…unpack the suitcase – nada. Panic rising …check the back of the car…uh, uh; front seat – under the seats – book bag again! Nope, nope and noooooooo!!!!

Sheer panic! About that time my husband notices my less than calm demeanor. When I explain that I can’t find my journal he casually says “I’m sure it’ll turn up.” At that point my panic hits a crescendo and I screech something totally unintelligible, to which he responds “I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”


“Do you know what’s going thru my mind right now?! Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! I can’t find my journal! What if I left it there?! All of my most intimate thoughts over the last few years!” He looked puzzled.

Suddenly I had visions of the hotel staff going thru it - giggling – and even worse – pages of my life appearing on Facebook and other social media sites! (Because you know I am just all that ;-) My ego and panic were running rampant.

When I was finally able to chill out and think clearly, I sent a text to my hotel roommate asking if she had seen it before she left, she hadn’t. Okay, I thought, call the hotel see if anyone found it. “Thank you for calling blah, blah hotel, how can I help you?”

“Hi, I think I left a journal, uh, purple book in my room…can you tell me if anyone found it?

“Ma’am, can I transfer you to security? Anything found in rooms is sent there.” 

 “Okay...” crap, recording. “This is security, blah, blah, blah, leave a message, it may take 72 hours for us to get back to you…” 72 hours? 72 hours?!! OMG, OMG, OMG!!! Really?! Aaaarrrgh!!!

The very next day I got a call from hotel security:  “Ms Tremblay? We have the items you left in the room, how would you like to handle this?” (Items? Are they talking about the leftover Tai food? Why would they keep that?)  “Can you mail it to me?”

“Sure. We just need your credit card information.” Done!

The next day the package came. I reached in and pulled out my beloved purple journal (yay!). A wave of relief washing over me…until, I saw it…the other “item.”

Slowly I reached in and pulled out the remaining contents of the envelope: a pair of worn underwear…and yep, they were mine…OMG! OMG! OMG!!!!

Ever had one of those OMG moments? Wanna share? If so, click on the little comment box below and tell your story. Or, if you know someone who could use a good laugh, feel free to forward this to them.