This happened a week ago, starting at 6:45 a.m. Monday, September 24. The reason I haven't hotpokketed about this yet is well, I was still plum pissed off about it.
Let me set the stage. Kevin left on Sunday night for a week long work meeting in Atlanta. I was home with our dog, Norman or booger or pumpkin or butthead or Parana, depending on his temperament. We go to sleep and the alarm goes off at 6:30 a.m. The booger is ready to go out and EAT! And I don't usually type all caps so when I type EAT, trust me, Norman wants to EAT.
So I walk to the bedroom door, half awake, and turn the knob to open the door. Nothing happens. Try it again. Nothing happens. And I have this flashback from Saturday am, Kevin and I have trouble opening the door, so his friend had to let us out. Cut to my brain thought.... "HOLY SHIT I AM LOCKED IN THE BEDROOM! And my dog has to EAT!!"
I call Kevin, who gives me his advice, "Sometimes, when I turn the knob all the way to the left and pull, it snaps open." Cut to my brain thought, "HOLY SHIT I AM LOCKED IN THE BEDROOM! And my dog has to EAT!!" But I tried it because what else am I going to do. Nothing happens. Dog is whining because he doesn't understand why I won't let him out to EAT!.
So I grab keys and jump out the window. Yep, it is true. I jumped out the bedroom window. Fortunately, I put a sports bra on, running shorts and running shoes before I jumped, as this is very valuable for later. And of course, Kevin's house is on the first floor. Dog is now freakin out, and mind you it is 6:55 a.m. Every neighbor that the dog hasn't pissed off yet is now pissed off.
Post jump, nothing is broken, so I open the building's front door, walk towards Kevin's front door and place the keys in the door. Nothing happens. Door is locked. Cut to my brain thought, "HOLY SHIT I BOLTED TO DOOR ON THE INSIDE LAST NIGHT! AND I DON'T HAVE THAT KEY. (*&^!!" Friends, I have just gone from locked in to locked out.
To make matters worse, the next door neighbor, who as far as I am concerned was born pissed off, is standing in her threshold, tapping her foot with her arms folded and says, "God, what is that noise, I thought someone was throwing themselves into a wall."
Calmly, I deliberate. I have two options. I can beat her up, which is what I really want to do for having a comment about EVERYTHING! Or, I can just ask her to borrow her phone, which I may need later. I chose the later, but it wasn't until I reminded myself that my escape route after I pounded her ass was no longer an option. So, I call a locksmith, because what else am I going to do. "A technician will be there in 30 minutes," says the operator. It is 7:05 a.m.
Sweet. I go outside and call my supervisor, "I am locked out. This may be a while. I'll call you when I know more." At this point I realize that my dog is starring at an open window. So I run around to the window and call his name, "Norman, Norman." Head peaks out of the window, Whew... He is fine, barking his head off, but he hasn't jumped out the window. Whew... that would suck to have to tell Kevin.
Hallelujah, 7:30 a.m. the building manager shows up and I ask him for his spare set of keys. He hands them over. Yes! I run to the front door of the condo, try the keys, nothing happens. SHIT! Building dude doesn't have the key to the bolt either.... good grief.
Waiting outside... waiting outside.... Thank GAWD, I decided to put on a sports bra and runners. At least I can slightly play it off as an early runner. My one give-a-way, I still have my whitening trays in. Nice! waiting outside... waiting outside...
8:30 a.m. the Locksmith shows up and we immediately start drilling open the lock, awesome. Shit is everywhere and now the dog is freakin out, again. We are onto our second drill hole when the building manager comes over and says, "Did you ask for the keys for condo #140 or #144?" Given that I have a man to the left of me currently drilling open #144 locks, I say, "Clearly, #144." He goes, "Well, I guess it doesn't matter now, but I gave you #140 keys." Cut to my brain thought, "Of course you did, you piece of &^%!"
And building sucky manager goes straight into, "Either way, I couldn't give you these keys anyway, seeing you are not on the lease or anything. Tell Kevin to come down to the office and fill out an authorization form when he gets back in town." I think, "oh, you bet your ass Kevin will fill out an authorization form, as soon as he rips out the damn bedroom door knob."
Success, we break open the front door lock. Norman is going bananas, because, "Yes, this means I get to EAT!" Well, shit, wouldn't you know that we can't get the bedroom door open! It seems I locked the skeleton key at 6:45 a.m. when I was first trying to get out. It is now 9:07 a.m. Will this ever end?
So I go and get a six foot ladder from the not-very-nice building manager, climb back into the bedroom window and unlock the door from the inside. Complete full circle. You have got to fricken kidding me.
$114.00 dollars later the Locksmith leaves. Norman gets to EAT! And all I want to do is go back to bed. As Norman is scarfing down his chow, I take a look at the bedroom. He didn't pee. He didn't eat my shoes. He calmly sat there until I figured it out. That is amazing.
So I sat down at the foot of the bed, starring at the now open bedroom door. Norm trots in post meal, and I thought he would immediately become a parana. As now, he would surely have to PEE! Instead, he sat next to me and put his head in my lap. It felt like it was his way of saying, "wow, I know that sucked. I am sorry. " And you know, I felt better.
So I put my big girl pants on, called Kevin and said, "Hey, baby, we are in!" And then I took our dog out for a walk, gave him the biggest treat on the planet and went to work. Shit happens. But I am so glad that I didn't fold like a cheap lawn chair. And seeing this face when I finally got back into the bedroom, well, it almost made it worth it, ALMOST! :-) HP
