Lock Down.

Hi there. It’s been a while. I know, it feels like ages. And I promise I won’t ever do that to you again, mom. Ok, so. Hi. Let me preface this by saying I am a magnet for weird things. Maybe because I’m a little weird myself. Or maybe by saying I am a magnet for weird things, I just ask for it? But in any case, weird things always happen to me. Like all of the time.

Do you remember Cinco de Mayo? I know, it was a very long time ago. May 5^th if you didn’t know. Well, it’s one of my favorite holidays. Because well, I love holidays. And chips. And salsa. And tequila. So I celebrated with an impromptu fiesta, complete with queso dip, every type of salsa under the sun because I’m too indecisive, homemade guacamole from the Trader Joe’s kit, and margarita’s. After running out of chips, a pal and I headed over to a girlfriend’s house for a change of scenery. Bailing on any type of organized celebrations involving a club and requiring me to put on something more suited for the Hollywood scene, we went home. This is where the fun really began.

Upon returning home, I immediately locked the door behind me. My door has a handle, not a knob, and a lock. Obviously. But not a deadbolt, as I had apparently been miscalling it. It’s also one of those doors that you can lock, but when you turn the handle to exit, it unlocks allowing you to leave. I think it’s called an emergency something or other, I wasn’t really paying attention. Ok, now that we’re all up to speed, and you’re probably wondering why I’m telling you about my front door, I’ll continue. I turned around and noticed the lock was stuck half way between locked and unlocked. So I twisted the lock to push it all the way down. And it wouldn’t budge. So I twisted the lock to push it all the way up. And it wouldn’t budge. So like any normal human being, I tried to force it down. Duh. This is where I ran into trouble. My lock was now stuck. And not only was the lock stuck, but my door wouldn’t open. So if you’ve been paying attention, you can see how this could be a problem. Remember when I said I was out of chips? Yeah. No bueno. I was also out of toilet paper. But honestly, I think I was more bummed about the chips. Not to mention, I was trapped inside my house, which apparently is super hilarious to anyone you call looking for help and/or sympathy. So hilarious in fact, I switched my story to say my apartment is flooding with water, please send emergency help now! which apparently isn’t super believable if it takes you a second to site the source of such a waterfall. The sink, I mean the washing machine – yeah, the washing machine. No. Even the home owners association knows I can't operate such machinery. 

After consulting my mom, we decided to wait until morning to call for a locksmith. Upon his arrival, we encountered another problem. I live in a secure building. Meaning, you need some sort of magic key fob to enter, or you can call up to the resident you are visiting and they can buzz you in. But obviously, I haven’t figured out the whole buzzing people in thing so I walk down to let my friends and Chinese food delivery guys in. Which is fine. When I can open the door to get out of my house. So it was the window for me. Which was a much higher drop than it appears. Popping off the screen and climbing out, I met my locksmith downstairs. And in true, dramatic fashion, I said to him  I am so happy you found me, I really thought I was going to die in here. Which wasn’t true at all, because after I found my step later, I really could have climbed in and out of that window forever. Actually that’s not true at all either, because what if I wanted to wear a skirt? So anyways, my locksmith - who resembled something of a big, Greek, grandfather who bathed in axe body spray - pulled me in for a hug, kissed the top of my head and said you’re gunna be okay, I’ll get you out of here, I promise. And you know what? Creepy factor aside, he did. After dismantling my entire door handle and lock, which had bent, and caught on some of the hardware inside the inner workings of the lock, making it impossible to move, he replaced it with a new one. And my door is as good as new.

No longer a prisoner in my own home, I can come and go as I please. Which I had totally taken for granted the second I was unable to – for fifteen whole hours seven of which I slept through. I really should figure out how to buzz people in. And let this be a lesson to you, always keep a spare bag of chips in case of an emergency. And maybe toilet paper too, for that matter.