Wednesday, April 13, 2011

A Story.

I'm blogging from a bubble bath, folks. Felt like I needed to straight up tell you what was up. Yeah. I'm in the bath, and YES I have Martha Washington hair (junior high pool party reference, anyone?) as I type this, but try to forget about that.

Yesterday was a fab day. It was totally productive & 100% feel-good weather. Dang near everything was roses & rainbows. I observed cool clients all morning, scored THREE language tests in my afternoon class (it takes me forev to score), and worked on campus for the rest of the day answering phones. After I got off work, I went to the grocery and came home feeling like a champ (minus the cut on my foot that I couldn't seem to stop complaining about). I hung out with my roommate (Katie G) for a little while, then with my pal Stephanie. Normal afternoon, totally ready for a chill evening at this point. I'm hoping to watch the new Parenthood (AKA P-Sauce AKA P-Hood AKA PH) with Katie G, but we find ourselves locked out of our home right as the sun is fading. 

Perfect.

"Locked out?" you ask. 

"Locked out," I say.

Sure, we had the front door key. Its the only key we had. But it wouldn't work for some reason. Katie G had her cell phone, but that was it. My phone was inside, as were our keys and our sanity. Ok, just my sanity was gone. I started having a panic attack once it became totally dark. Finally it broke off into the door. Our rental company's emergency line was no help. Nobody answered. (Keep in mind our neighborhood isn't the greatest, not to mention our grass hasn't been mowed in 2 years and all I kept thinking about were snakes and rats and bobcats and lasagna [I was hungry].) We tried for what seemed like forever breaking into our own house. 

We kicked in the doggy door, dangit. My ponytail didn't even look big enough to fit through it, but I was determined. Once I squeezed my head through, I realized I was stuck and began screaming hysterically. 

That part about the doggy door isn't true.

Then I remembered! My strapping, dapper, handy, manly fiance had a spare key! Yes! Last month when our pals Andy & Polly got married, I gave Matt a spare key to my house since he would need a place to keep his fancy wedding stuff, and I wouldn't be home to let him in. I forgot to get the key back, so "I'll call him!" I thought.

Turns out, I don't know his number.

Thats right, and I probably don't know yours either. Thats because I don't know ANYONE'S. Does anyone know phone numbers anymore? I mean, you log it into your phone and you never have to dial it again. But my phone was inside. Oh my gosh. I felt freaking insane for not knowing my own fiance's digits! Using my roommate's phone obv, we make some calls, text some folks, hoping SOMEONE could give us my fiance's number.

And when we finally get the digits...

"Hello?"

"MATT! Hey!"

"Uh hey."

"Its Katie!"

"Who?"

"Your fiance! The woman you're going to marry in 8 months!"

"Oh? Hey!"

"WE LOCKED OURSELVES OUT AND WE HAVE BEEN TRYING TO BREAK IN, AND MATT, I DON'T KNOW YOUR PHONE NUMBER, CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? WE'RE MISSING PARENTHOOD AND OHMYGOD, I FORGOT YOU HAD A KEY AND THEN I REMEMBERED AND MATT, THE KEY BROKE OFF IN THE DOOR AND CAN YOU JUST PLEASE BRING THE KEY WE CAN'T GET IN AND I HAVE A TEST TOMORROW AND..."

"Haha. I'm on my way."

"But I love you."

"I love you too. See you in an hour."

Boom. Saved. I don't know what else to say except once we got inside I kissed the ground. No I didn't, you guys know I don't own a mop or a swiffer, that would be stupid and disgusting of me. 

The end.

4 comments:

  1. The part about the doggy door is my fav. I was picturing the entire scene and say you kicking and screaming.

    That Matt... "WHAT a guy!" I think you found yourself a keeper.

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  2. P.S. I'm pretty pumped I beat Brandi and got the first comment. score.

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  3. Haha! Oh, Trevs. Congrats! I didn't know you were slowly dying inside every time I made the first comment.

    Katie, I still think it's funny that you don't know a single persons phone number. I know yours, you know. Most probs because I've called you a mil times over the past seven years.

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  4. I'm so proud of you, Trev, I could tell you were getting antsy about always coming in 2nd with his comments (not really).

    Bran, can you believe it? I know the time & temp number for west monroe, and FM 101.9's number from high school. And my mom's. Thats it.

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