Yesterday I was sitting at home working, feeling stressed and a little wrung out, I thought that the best thing I could do would be to walk the dog. Break the stress, get some fresh air and indulge Fluffy Pencil’s favourite pastime – leaving the house.
I grabbed my iPod, my phone and the dog and set off for a brisk walk. It was bloody freezing and I was not dressed appropriately. But I persevered because there is nothing Fluffy Pencil loves more than a walk (other than leaving the house of course).
Half an hour of exercise and freezing cold wind on my back and I boldly and confidently approached my front door, as you do when it is your own front door. I turned the handle. Nothing happened. Except of course my heart fell to the floor. I had locked myself out of the house.
You know that blind panic that sets in when you realise that you have just done something really stupid, the same panic that forces you to try open the same locked door repeatedly with the exact same outcome? I was deep in that panic.
I quickly thought to phone my sister who has a spare key. Saved. Then I remembered that she has a key for the real house – not the one we are living in. No one has a spare key for this house*
After I had tried the door about 8 times I realised it was not going to work. So I decided to test the security of the windows.
I removed the fly screens and this feeling of accomplishment buoyed me for about 12 seconds. I thought I had it nailed. What I did not take into account is that once the fly screens were gone there was still the glass to get through. I am happy to report to Little Pencil, who often sits up at night worrying about break-ins, that our windows are impenetrable. At least impenetrable to a 41 year old mother with a dog yapping at her feet.
The panic started to rise even more so I did what any confident, self assured and together woman would do – I phoned my husband, Mr Pencil to cry. He didn’t pick up the phone.
I took out 5 minutes of breaking and entering to explain to the woman across the road that I was not trying to break into the house I was just trying to get in. Without a key
Then I cased the neighbour’s house. We are living in a semi. You cannot climb over the wall of a semi. It is an internal wall. So I called my Mr Pencil and he didn’t answer
If the problems are creeping into what you DO want and see what happens! This workout is really about saying YES to yourself, to that powerful being who is beyond the positive and cialis 20 mg the negative outcomes you perceive to be real. Any men of any age group may suffer from erectile dysfunction soft viagra tabs then you need to take proper assistance from them. It concerns relationship or martial problems, sexual performance, effects of past sexual best viagra price trauma, depression and guilt feeling. You can order your drugs for common health issues, like diabetic issues or prostate surgery. generico levitra on line overall performance is achieved due to the existence of its active component Vardenafil HCL. Fluffy Pencil was looking at me like I had forgotten where we live. I was looking at him like I wanted to cry (actually I was crying).
So Fluffy Pencil and I walked around the block again and phoned Mr Pencil again. He didn’t answer the phone again.
I remembered that I had left the back door open so if I could just hop over the back wall I would be home and hosed. Well at least home.
The house behind me was locked and barred. There was no way of breaking into that one if I could not even break into my own one. So I phoned Mr Pencil so that he could ignore me and Fluffy Pencil licked my legs.
I decided to think positive. I would go and sit in the park and work on my very handy iPhone. Except I only had one bar of battery and I was freezing cold. I was even scared to keep trying to call Mr Pencil lest I use up all my battery and finally get through to him and manage to only sob before we get cut off. But I called him anyway and he didn’t answer.
About 15 minutes had passed (that felt like 30 days) I was preparing my speech for Mr Pencil. I was practising tone and everything. My rant was going to be about how it was his fault (I needed some time to work on this angle) and how impossible it was to get hold of him when I needed him. As I worked out how he would respond I heard his voice – “but there’s a spare key hidden on top of the …….”**
Of course there was. But I could not reach it. I went and got the huge green bin, did a quick prayer of thanks to Maria who had cleaned it with disinfectant and hauled it over to the ___**. I climbed on the bin, knocked my knee, my head and my elbow and through my tears I spotted the key.
I opened the door, the Fluffy Pencil fell asleep and Mr Pencil called me back.
*turns out I was wrong
** I can’t tell you where it is because you may want to break in and shout at my husband for ignoring my calls
What an awful awful experience – and I’m glad you got back inside. I am also sure that you have ‘reconciled’ that this must have been Mr Pencil’s fault anyway because it just must be..after all it wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t decided to renovate and move to another house.. It’s always the fault of the Mr but more so when he doesn’t answer his ….. .. Phone!!
I understand that blind panic. But more often than not because I leave my purse behind somewhere. Apparently I did that, and knock over every drink ever given to me, religiously as a child. Seems I didn’t grow out of either.
Also, last Saturday, I took my car about an hour away, for a service. (Husband and Children left behind) I kind of thought it was weird when I handed over my husbands set of keys when I gave it to the mechanic but that was as far as my thought process got.
In the movies with my girlfriend my phone rang. Husband. Apparently I stranded him at home, with the three kids. Took both sets of keys.
Mind, the house was very clean when I got home. xxx
Glad you used your MacGuyer skillz 🙂
I hate being locked out. I too don’t understand why we keep trying doors and windows that are locked. Are we hoping the fairy’s (or mabe the Shakergods) have opened them for us out of pity?
I’m glad you found the spare key and managed to get back inside without freezing to death or running out of iPhone battery – personally I don’t know which one is worse.
Please teach Mr Pencil how to answer his phone. Men are a bit slow with these things.
Very funny post. xx
I am happy for so many reasons:
I am happy to have read the full story now, after the edited version on twitter…
I am also happy that you managed to get back in, although probably 2kgs heavier than before you left, having consumed that jar of nutella while you waited for Mr Pencil to call you back 🙂
So basically, in a nutshell (pardon the nutella pun), luckily you even went for a walk, because that exercise made your nutella eating null and void… and you’re back where you started… (which may or may not be a good thing…)
I am even more happy (although I probably won’t be when my boss finds out) to report that this story is in NO WAY as bad as what happened to me, when, on my FIRST day in my new job, only six short months ago, I picked up a two week old baby, in JANUARY (remembering that it’s ridiculously hot in Sydney in January remember), strapped him in the car, locked(being responsible and all… as if a two week old could pry open the car door while I was driving…) closed the door confidently, and realised… he was in the car… my keys were in the car… and I was not.
Now THAT is when it’s officially time to panic.
Needless to say, the NRMA could not understand a word I was saying(because I was screaming and crying probably)…
But we DID get back into the car, after the kind NRMA lady interpreted my ranting and sent a car-key fixer man to rescue us…
PS: the baby was fine… fast asleep the entire time. It was me who was not fine, but I am now 🙂
Oh how funny. Not in a ha ha laughing at you kind of way – promise 🙂
I was just called by a frantic 8 mth pregnant friend the other day who was desperate for a wee and who miraculously had her mobile on her. She’d walked out her gate and it locked behind her. Door open, massive gate locked, bladder full.
I felt like a white knightess climbing over that gate for her.
And I was feeling shit scared of the height.
Thank God for Maria.
x
OH DARLING!!!
As you know, I did the same thing a few weeks ago, only after 20 minutes of weeping, gnashing and trying in vain to call my husband, my 11yo son ran around the back and BROKE INTO OUR HOUSE IN 3 SECONDS FLAT, alerting me to the fact that we had been living in a house with a BROKEN BACK DOOR for 6 months.
Happily, it was fixed.
Unhappily, it cost me a great deal of money.
I cried, too.
Oh how I hate that feeling!!
I’ve done it twice since I’ve had the kids (I can’t remember anything B.C.)
First time I locked my less than 1 year old IN and I was OUT! The only good thing about living in this town is that my husband worked about 500m from our home. I RAN (I never run) all the way to his work.
Second time the kids and I walked out ready for school, closed the door, left all the keys inside, including car keys! DOH Fortunately I know my neighbour.
Ha ha ha ha. laughing so hard.
Especially because “My rant was going to be about how it was his fault (I needed some time to work on this angle) and how impossible it was to get hold of him when I needed him.”… sounded just like me at least once a month when the phone isn’t answered immediately ….
And it sounds so rationally irrational when someone else says it. ! 🙂