Saturday, September 8, 2012

The Patience Porch

About 11:00 this morning, I was sitting in bed reading when I heard the doorbell.  I decided to ignore it and then it rang again.  What the hell?

I wasn't expecting anyone, but I got out of bed anyway and slipped into my pajama pants.

I grabbed my gun (don't judge, it was an unexpected visitor) and stomped to the door.  I opened it and looked outside.  There was no one there, but I heard a car door, so I stepped out onto the porch to see who I'd missed.

I leaned over the railing to look down into the parking lot and didn't pay much attention to the door swinging shut behind me.

I didn't recognize anyone in the parking lot and turned to go back in the apartment.

Uh-oh.

No problem, I've been locked out of apartments before.  There's not an apartment I haven't been able to get into.

So...what do I have on the porch to help me break-in?  Let's see... wooden target stands.  Nope, not helpful.

Trap thrower...hey...maybe I can use that cotter pin to jimmy the door.

I spent a good bit jamming the cotter pin in the door, but it wasn't quite small enough, so back to the trap thrower I went.  Maybe I could straighten the spring to move the tumbler out of the way and then I can jam the cotter pin in and force the lock.

After a good half an hour of dicking around with the lock, it dawned on me that we don't even have a doorbell. So I managed to get myself locked outside of the apartment answer a doorbell that wasn't even ours!

So there I was, barefoot and in my jammies, locked outside the apartment on the porch.  My great idea of jimmying the lock with a cotter pin and spring didn't work and I was starting to get impatient. 

What else did I have on the porch to get into the house?  My gun and the legs to my trap thrower.  The door is metal and we live in town, so shooting the lock wasn't much of an option, so that left me with the legs to my trap thrower.

I picked one up and thought that maybe I'd be able to use it as a lever to break the doorknob off and then I could take it apart and get in the apartment.

Yeah, that didn't work either.

If only I had grabbed my phone instead of my gun to answer the door.

Shit!  I now had two choices, go downstairs to the cafe to borrow the phone to call Nebalee or wait for Jay to get off of work.

Honestly, waiting for Jay to get off of work was my first choice, but then I realized that I still had going on seven hours for him to get home.  The weather was nice, but not so nice that I wanted to hang out on the porch in my pajamas for seven hours.

So, barefoot, braless, in my pineapple pajamas, I gathered as much courage as I could and marched down the stairs to the cafe.

Please, please, please answer the phone Nebalee.  Nope.  That would be too easy.

I left a message and went back to the porch, mentally calculating how long it would take her to pick up the kids from gymnastics and head over here to get me.  My plan was to have her take me to pick up Jay's keys and bring me back.  Forty-five minutes, tops, I'd be on my way to getting Jay's car.

I did some crunches.

I did some stretches.

I paced the porch.

I walked down the stairs.

I walked up the stairs.

I sat down.

I did some crunches.

I did some stretches.

I paced the porch.

I walked down the stairs and sat at the communal picnic table, where I worked on my jailhouse art by using a stick to scratch "Dumb Ass" into the picnic table.
My first - and hopefully only - foray into prison art 

Forever passed and the cafe closed.  Another forever passed and one of the cafe workers came out of the building holding the phone, "I think someone's on the phone for you."

Hallelujah!!

"Are you still locked out?" Nebalee asked.  I'm pretty sure she was laughing. 

Finally, three and a half hours after I got locked out help was on the way.

I walked up the stairs.

I did some stretches.

I mentally calculated how long it would take her to get here.

I did more stretches.

I walked down the stairs.

I sat at the picnic table and re-traced my artwork.

An hour later, Nebalee appeared.  I've never been so happy to see her car pull up, even if she was wiping tears out of her eyes from laughter when she realized I was still in my pajamas.

And then...I had to break the news to Jay.  Jay, the man who warned me not two weeks ago about how easy it was to get locked out.  Jay, the man who is probably still laughing at me.

But, there's some good news.  I'm fairly certain that our house is break-in proof.

8 comments:

Candance said...

I'm sorry I'm laughing at you but at least you know if you go to jail, you'll be the best artist there.

Mrs Mom said...

Least you were pieced up, girlfriend ;) Bet that looked smashingly sexy with pineapple pajammies! :)


And it wasn't raining or snowing. Rock on!

Allenspark Lodge said...

I'm still wiping tears off my cheeks. Wait 'til I tell Estes.
Mom

GunDiva said...

Candance - I've now posted a picture of my "art". Let's just say I should NEVER go to prison or jail, 'cause my artwork isn't so good.

Mrs Mom - No one looks sexy in pink pineapple pajamas.

Mom - No need to tell Estes. She already thinks I'm an idiot.

Allenspark Lodge said...

Okay, I've spent all night wondering. Where did you put the 1911 to make a phone call?


Or maybe I really don't want to know.
Bill

Michelle Hoad said...

oh holy hell. That totally sounds like something I would do. Every time I get in the car in my chicken pants to drive someone to school I wonder if that is the day someone hits me and I have to stand on the side of the street, braless in my tank top and chicken pants, giving my statement to the cops.

Rachel said...

Love your mom & Beel's comments... and I'm pretty sure I would have been laughing with Nebalee. But really, pineapple pajamas? It could have been worse - much worse! (I kinda want some pineapple pajamas now! You know... in case I get locked out! :)

2A Mama said...

This sounds like something I would do, too. But I don't have any pineapple pants. Or chicken pants, for that matter. Sounds like I might need some! :)