I'm somewhere away from home, driving a (jeep-Bronco-sort-of-thing like Lori's), with a baby - maybe a toddler - for a passenger. We're going somewhere for an outing, just starting, and I'm realizing I have to go back for something. It may be just to put makeup on, because I haven't done that today. We go back to the kid's house - not mine - I'm staying there as a guest, and this outing is in the nature of babysitting. The house is rather suburban ranch-style, one floor, attached garage, rather upscale, yucca plants and stone outside. I pull up next to the garage, and a man either comes out or is waiting and takes the kid inside. He's maybe a friend of the family, or a relative, middle-aged, nice, helpful. I'm sitting in the driver's seat, taking out some toner and a cotton ball - I think I'll try to get my makeup off in the car, dash in and throw a face on - we're actually not so much in a hurry, but we want to make this stop quick and get back on the road. I decide the toner isn't such a great idea and get out of the car. When I open the door, a can (or something - it sounds like a can) falls out and rolls into the open garage. There are large hanging things (the size of meat carcasses, but they're not). I'm concerned about having to dig around in there to find anything, especially if it's just an empty can, but a couple of steps and I see there's not that much on the floor and the can is just a little way under something. I get it and bring it back, and go on into the house. The house is furnished the way the outside looks - rather like Joan's - semi-modern, slightly upscale, open space, clean, glass table tops. The parents of this kid are a youngish couple that match the house - she's got shoulder-length blonde hair and looks nonchalant. They're just sitting down to dinner and they say as long as we're here, why not just stay and eat, then go back out? Sounds pretty sensible to me.