Alternate Title: Wherein I Switch Verb Tenses Throughout the Story but Don’t Care Enough to Go Back and Edit
Wow. So, Sunday – the so-called Day of Rest – has pretty much kicked my ass. Things started off nicely enough what with the sleeping in and a little 17 Again (shut up) before heading out the door to meet the fam and a friend for brunch. I gave Molly a little pat and said I’d see her soon. Walked out the door and it locked behind me.
Enjoyed a fabulous brunch and returned to realize I had left the house key on the table. Normally it lives on a keychain but I had taken it off Saturday so Dave could check on Molly blahbahidioticmove.
I assessed the situation and figured that my best bet was to get into the backyard and break in through a window. The fence was hard to scale so I asked a neighbor – with whom I have never exchanged more than “Hi, how are yous?” – if I could borrow a ladder. I knew once I got over the fence I could step onto a table and everything would be fine. OH HOW SILLY AND NAIVE I WAS BACK AT NOON. I thanked him profusely for the help and he went back to his driveway and listening to AC/DC.
Once in the backyard I began popping screens off of windows and testing windows, to no avail. I realized that securing the house like a fort was backfiring against me. It made sense at the time, what with my preference for a non-rapey existence. I had texted Ed to call me, but I’m pretty sure when he did he wasn’t expecting me to ask, “So, what’s the best way to break into your house?” We both realize my only option is to drive up to his dad’s house and get HIS spare key and abandon my cat burglar ways.
At this point I end up in a 1.5 hour phone appointment with someone else (don’t ask) and just hung out in the backyard, grateful for the sunshine. Molly could see me through the sliding glass door and was clearly confused. Pretty sure she was thinking, “Woman, OPEN THE DOOR and come on in here. I’ve seen you do it before.”
Realizing I have to get back over the fence AGAIN I begin freaking out. Oh, why not just open the gate and walk out like a non-sketchy person? There is a lock on the gate. Three guesses where the key is located. Hahahasobbing.
I scale the fence, scrape the shit out of my hands and shoulder, end up with all kinds of dirt and crap in my shoes and try to make landing on a shrub look graceful. Silently thank my lucky stars that no one saw me. Think that maybe if I had stopped to think in the first place this annoying step could have been avoided altogether. Consider checking myself into a daycare because I am clearly a child.
Needing to pull my shit together, I head over to my parents’ house, tell my mom the situation and she, predictably, points out that this wouldn’t be such a hassle if she had a key. She’s probably right, but it wasn’t the most constructive suggestion at that exact moment. Also, I needed to pee. I called Ed to let him know I was ready to head up to his dad’s but wanted to make sure he was home. We both try calling him on his landline and cell and get no answer. Figuring that at worst, he is just over at this neighbor’s and will be home eventually, I make the 30 minute drive as Ed keeps calling.
This story is getting out of hand, so let me fast forward to the part where Ed’s dad gives me some good-natured grief over locking myself out of the house, hands over his key, and I offer to make him dinner when Ed returns as a thank you. He didn’t have his cell with him because he was outside with his brother and “didn’t need it.” By the time I had pulled up to the house I was freaking out that something had happened and he couldn’t reach his phone. I don’t even want to know what my blood pressure was at that point. I am home now, enjoying a snack and planning never to leave the house again.