Not a big deal--go get the extra key from the fake rock or the gutter or wherever, right?
Yea. There's a problem with that theory. There are no keys.
You see, before the gapartment was the gapartment, it was a garage. On the outside of the garage is a key-pad we used to open the garage door, through which we entered the house. When we took the mechanisms down and dry-walled over the inside of the garage door, our entrance points changed drastically.
We use the 'side' door now, which is over on the (duh) side of the garage... er--gapartment. My parents now use their front door.
Two keys exist for the front door. They reside on their respective key rings with my parents. No keys exist for the gapartment door. Instead, we use yet another key-pad installed IN the door to control the dead bolt. We're just always really careful not to lock the door handle. Always being usually, in this situation.
My parents are across the country on a trip.
You see where this is going, don't you??
So, by an unfortunate chain of events, the door wound up being locked when I closed it.
(this is where I should inform you I was wearing a dress)
(why do these things always happen when I wear dresses?)
I went about my day and figured I'd fix it when we got home. Fix it being to crawl through one of the only two windows I'd left unlocked that morning. The windows that are, oh, about five feet off the ground?
Fast forward a few hours to the middle of the afternoon. It's 85 degrees outside and we're home. Baby and mama--no one else with us.
(this is where I should inform you I'm terrified of bees)
I chose the side behind the gate, where I figured I was less likely to offend a neighbor via flashing or to be caught 'breaking in' to my own house.
Precariously perched on top of the fire pit, other foot up on our patio table, I had finally removed the screen and was trying to put the blinds up from the wrong angle (no easy task, let me tell you) when a BEE flew into my HAIR.
I lept from my perch and started screeching, running and swatting. Yes, I know these are all things *not* to do when in a confrontation with a bee, but I was panicked. (Does this remind you of anything?)
Once I was sure the bee had successfully left the building--er--hair, I moved on to a different window. As it turns out, there's a wasp nest somewhere up there near that window.
So, start over:
- Pry the screen loose. (When I was pregnant and they all made fun of me for installing the screens with the tabs facing out, I should've just left them. It's now clear that I was merely planning for my future.)
- Slide the window open.
- Realize I'm too short and lack the fire pit and table.
- Remember the folding chair in the back of my car.
- Climb up on the chair and ward off curious kitties.
- Attempt blind levitation.
- Climb through the window. In a dress.
- ...and don't knock down the fancy orchid on the window ledge.
- ...or the antique covered dish.
- ...and careful! don't get dirt on the white ottoman inside the window!
...and would you believe I actually paused to scan the neighborhood to make sure I wasn't being watched? right before I flashed my bright green undies at the world. again. different pair.
The moral of the story?
Don't lock yourself out. If you do lock yourself out, make sure the manly, husbandly type isn't at work 35 minutes away. And don't wear a dress. And stop buying green undies.