Locked Out

Yesterday was a trying day, and a new low for me in middle-aged brain malfunction. After I'd gotten the mail, I noticed a couple of pieces were for the upstairs apartment, so I stepped back outside to put them in their box. In doing so I had closed the inner door behind me without undoing the lock. leaving me stuck in the vestibule. It was around 12:30 pm.

One of the upstairs folks was home, but she was playing her stereo, blasting Cee-Lo's "Fuck You" over and over, so she couldn't hear my knocking. I think she must have played it ten or twelve times. When the music finally stopped, I was able to get her attention and her keys, thinking that since our keys to the outside front door are the same, our inner-door keys might be similar enough that I could use it to get in. That idea didn't get far.

I went through their apartment and down the back steps to try the same thing with the inside back door, with the same result. I considered what I should do. I was wearing sweats and slippers, so I wasn't dressed to go outside, and I had no phone and no money on me. I used the neighbor's phone to call the Mrs. and left her a voicemail, hoping she might come home to let me in but figuring she might not be able to get away from work.

Ultimately I spent the afternoon in the basement, looking into boxes that had been placed there when we moved in and sorting through some old letters. My neighbor offered to let me stay in their living room and watch TV, but I wouldn't have been watching TV if I was in my own apartment, and I guess I was still a little paranoid about the whole bug thing.

The Mrs. had said she was going to try not to have to stay late at work, but she didn't make it home until 6:30. She never noticed the voicemail notification on her phone. More than any discomfort or inconvenience (the basement was pretty cold), the whole thing was embarrassing and humiliating, and I really hope I never do anything that stupid again.