Lori Dropped Her Nut.
I had a pretty decent day.
So, as I was heading out the door this morning, I grabbed my cell phone, the pouch that holds my money and the bag I bring to work. On any other day, this would be the point when I take my keyring off the hook on the wall. Today, however, I noticed a bag of trash waiting to be taken out to the dumpster. Since it was my trash, I took it.
Immediately after closing the door behind me, I realized that I hadn't grabbed my keys. After an "Oh, crap!" moment, I remembered that we had a hidden spare in the basement. (I locked myself out a couple years ago, after which George suggested the hidden key.) So I took out the trash, then made my way down to the basement.
No key. I even called George to verify the hiding place. I searched that entire quarter of the basement. No key. I'm guessing the key discovered the secrets to transdimensional travel, and is currently in an alternate universe, saving the butt of an alternate Lori.
I couldn't get hold of the landlady, I didn't want to make George drive all the way home, and I'd be damned if I'd pay upwards of 50 bucks for a locksmith to come let me in (after who knows how long a wait).
So I made the best of it.
I mailed a postcard. I took myself out to breakfast at the Easthampton Diner. I picked up a couple things at Easthampton Dollar and True Value. I bought lunch at Big E's. I read an entire graphic novel at the Emily Williston Memorial Library. I bought a few used books at Cherry Picked Books. I did some reading at home (outside, of course). I didn't cry even once, in the whole 7-1/2 hours I was locked out of the apartment.
And then George got home and let me in.
And then I went to work for five hours.
And now I'm home again, and it's all good.
I had a pretty decent day.
So, as I was heading out the door this morning, I grabbed my cell phone, the pouch that holds my money and the bag I bring to work. On any other day, this would be the point when I take my keyring off the hook on the wall. Today, however, I noticed a bag of trash waiting to be taken out to the dumpster. Since it was my trash, I took it.
Immediately after closing the door behind me, I realized that I hadn't grabbed my keys. After an "Oh, crap!" moment, I remembered that we had a hidden spare in the basement. (I locked myself out a couple years ago, after which George suggested the hidden key.) So I took out the trash, then made my way down to the basement.
No key. I even called George to verify the hiding place. I searched that entire quarter of the basement. No key. I'm guessing the key discovered the secrets to transdimensional travel, and is currently in an alternate universe, saving the butt of an alternate Lori.
I couldn't get hold of the landlady, I didn't want to make George drive all the way home, and I'd be damned if I'd pay upwards of 50 bucks for a locksmith to come let me in (after who knows how long a wait).
So I made the best of it.
I mailed a postcard. I took myself out to breakfast at the Easthampton Diner. I picked up a couple things at Easthampton Dollar and True Value. I bought lunch at Big E's. I read an entire graphic novel at the Emily Williston Memorial Library. I bought a few used books at Cherry Picked Books. I did some reading at home (outside, of course). I didn't cry even once, in the whole 7-1/2 hours I was locked out of the apartment.
And then George got home and let me in.
And then I went to work for five hours.
And now I'm home again, and it's all good.
I had a pretty decent day.