(no subject)
About 11 AM, I went outside to brush the snow off my car so I wouldn't have to do it in concert dress when I went out for the 1PM call before our Concerto Concert. I left the door unlocked and had neither my keys nor my phone, as sylvansafekeepe was home.
A few minutes into the task, sylvansafekeepe heads out for the day. We exchange grimaces about the wind and the cold and the snow drifts. A few minutes later, I wonder whether he locked the door behind him.
He did. Cursing, kicking of snow, and throwing of the car brush ensue (it should be noted that I do not hold sylvansafekeepe in any way accountable for what transpired).
It's cold, and I have someplace I need to be in two hours. It so happens that one of the panes of glass on the front door doesn't quite fit in the frame. I can get my fingers around the glass and maybe, I think, by pulling and tugging I can get it out of the frame. Did I mention it was cold out? Anyway, the pane flexes but doesn't really budge. Maybe I should be wearing gloves, I think, but with my thin liners, I can't really get into the crack like I can without them. So it's back to pulling and flexing the pane and *CRASH*. This was, of course, the inevitable endgame. Rather unfortunate that my hands were involved rather than, say, an elbow.
I reach through the void, unlock the door, step in. Survey the damage. Not too bad. Oh look, a gash in my thumb. Let's deal with that first. Some water, soap, a cotton ball, and a band-aid and I'm no longer leaking. Probably doesn't merit stitches and, anyway, I have someplace I need to be (and we're already down one trumpet whose back went out, but we only need two for this concert anyway). Pick up glass. Tape trash bags over window. Storm door keeps things from blowing too badly. Call landlord. Landlord is useless and can't come out until Thursday (reason #18 why I've been making eyes at the real estate market). Eat something. Shower. Don tuxedo. Go to concert.
Thankfully, the adrenaline wore off sometime during the pre-concert rehearsal, because depriving the brain of oxygen because I'm forcing it through a brass tube while running on adrenaline is just asking for a vasovagal incident (I have something of a history of these, and it runs in the family; this is also why eating something before leaving was a priority).
A few minutes into the task, sylvansafekeepe heads out for the day. We exchange grimaces about the wind and the cold and the snow drifts. A few minutes later, I wonder whether he locked the door behind him.
He did. Cursing, kicking of snow, and throwing of the car brush ensue (it should be noted that I do not hold sylvansafekeepe in any way accountable for what transpired).
It's cold, and I have someplace I need to be in two hours. It so happens that one of the panes of glass on the front door doesn't quite fit in the frame. I can get my fingers around the glass and maybe, I think, by pulling and tugging I can get it out of the frame. Did I mention it was cold out? Anyway, the pane flexes but doesn't really budge. Maybe I should be wearing gloves, I think, but with my thin liners, I can't really get into the crack like I can without them. So it's back to pulling and flexing the pane and *CRASH*. This was, of course, the inevitable endgame. Rather unfortunate that my hands were involved rather than, say, an elbow.
I reach through the void, unlock the door, step in. Survey the damage. Not too bad. Oh look, a gash in my thumb. Let's deal with that first. Some water, soap, a cotton ball, and a band-aid and I'm no longer leaking. Probably doesn't merit stitches and, anyway, I have someplace I need to be (and we're already down one trumpet whose back went out, but we only need two for this concert anyway). Pick up glass. Tape trash bags over window. Storm door keeps things from blowing too badly. Call landlord. Landlord is useless and can't come out until Thursday (reason #18 why I've been making eyes at the real estate market). Eat something. Shower. Don tuxedo. Go to concert.
Thankfully, the adrenaline wore off sometime during the pre-concert rehearsal, because depriving the brain of oxygen because I'm forcing it through a brass tube while running on adrenaline is just asking for a vasovagal incident (I have something of a history of these, and it runs in the family; this is also why eating something before leaving was a priority).