Thursday, November 6, 2008
The lastest "dumbest thing I've ever done."
To anyone I've ever told that I am an intelligent woman ... I apologize for lying.
To those hopeful ladies who read my book on "Making the Most of Your Pea Brain"... your reimbursement check is in the mail.
Because I am an idiot.
I awoke early this morning in the back seat of my car. And no, there was no cabana boy keeping me warm.
Around 4 a.m. I decided to take out the garbage Who knows why. Then, for some reason no psychoanalyst will ever be able to uncover, I locked the door behind me.
"OK, no prob," I think as I reach for my pocket where surely a key would be ... Oh right ... I wasn't wearing PANTS. I was standing out in the middle of the night in a tank top and my underwear and a bathrobe. Classic walking out in the middle of the night attire. Nice.
Then it started to drizzle.
I GLARED inside at my two taunting cats who sat, doing nothing with their smug little kitty smiles. What did they care? I fed the hairy bastards before I walked out.
Refusing to panic I made attempt #1 to get back in: Brute Force.
Twisting the resistant knob, I repeatedly throw my shoulder into the door. This led to a bruised shoulder and an even more bruised ego.
Letting out a string of mumbled curses I set out for attempt #2 Burglar Mode.
Robe sashaying around my numbing legs, I stalked around to each window ... removing screens and pulling in vain at each locked unbudging piece of glass. I even tried to pull the damn things off their tracks. All for naught. Either I would make the worst possible robber, or I've been living in Fort Knox. Don't bother theivey people ... there's no way in those panes of security.
"OK apartment, I'm not done yet," I say to myself in a still confident whisper ... on to attempt #3 What Would MacGyver Do?
I pick up a plastic cup and tear it to create a makeshift credit card to try to shimmy through the lock. All I really succeeded in doing was shimmying through my skin. I toss it to the ground in disgust.
On to the trunk of my car ... I eye the golf clubs SERIOUSLY considering breaking a window. Then I see a paint scraper and bring it over to the door, again trying to force the lock.
"My place is a friggn' fortress." I mumble over and over as I again contemplate the golf clubs. I'm wet and miserable, and want nothing more than to go to bed. A real prize pathetic moment.
With a menacing look to those mocking furballs who had been watching my failed attempts to get inside, I crawl defeated into the backseat of my car. Looking up at the roof, I feel acceptance washing over me, and just before I close my eyes and try to sleep ... a drop of water falls past my face. Because even before I moronically locked myself out, I had left my sunroof partially open ... on a night I knew it was going to rain.
Morning comes and I get a hold of my dad. Not the first person I would want to come find me in the back seat of my car ... in my underwear. I pull the robe close and try not to make eye contact.
"So, you really just locked yourself out? Really? What were you doing?"
"I was cracked out and decided to sell my body in the woods. Can you just let me in and never mention this again? Thanks. Super."
I kicked both of my cats in their guts before heading ... finally ... to my bed. As sleep set in, I vowed to make a dozen spare keys.