You know how they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions?
I don’t feel I’m headed for hell, necessarily, but maybe some sort of weird purgatory that resembles the situations I put myself in.
Today, I got home from work, and went to throw out the garbage. That’s it. That’s all I wanted to do. And I took off my purse, but left my phone in my pocket so that I could still listen to music as I was throwing out the garbage. And as I was leaving, I thought, “Should I unlock this door?”
And then thought, “Meh. My keys are in my pocket.”
BUT THEY WEREN’T.
Did I realize this before I closed the door?
Did I close the door AND THEN CHECK MY POCKETS??
It’s like that sort of icky, panicky moment you might get when you realize you’ve left something behind that might be important… like your wallet in a cab, or your child in your car with the keys still inside, perhaps. I checked my pocket. And then the other one. I checked ALL of my jeans pockets. I checked this little pot of dirt the last tenant left before I realized I don’t hide keys like that. Apparently, neither did she.
As a friend of mine pointed out, “Didn’t this just happen to you a couple of months ago?” And yes. Yes it did. However, that time I just needed to be let into the lobby, a key that everyone in the courtyard has. (Now, true, it was a miracle that I FOUND someone to let me in, but still. That was less of a crisis. Though wouldn’t it be funny if everyone had the same key to our respective apartments and we just thought we didn’t? Not something I’m willing to find out.)
So I did the only thing I could think to do, which was to call my management company. I got connected to the emergency line – the fire, gas leak, no heat line. My “emergency” wasn’t any of those, but I let the lady on the other end of the line know what happened.
“Well, it’s $50, so you’ll need to go get $50 if you don’t have that on you.”
“I’d do that, except my purse is inside. So I need to be let in first.”
“Well they can’t let you in without the money. Why don’t you call me back when you have it?”
FUCK NO, BITCH. “Okay. I have nothing on me except my phone. So unless you’d like me to stand in front of an ATM and simply ask it for money and hope for the best, I cannot get money until I am let in.” (Here’s where I tell you I have $10 in cash. I knew I was going to write a check.)
“Ok; I’ll call building maintenance. He’ll call you.”
I also had a very low phone battery, but decided to update my Facebook status anyway, for shits and giggles. The building supervisor, Sam, called me. I waited outside for 40 minutes before he got there. I watched my phone die. I watched my upstairs neighbor sing her way down the gangway, go up to her apartment, and open up her door to be met with what sounded like a dying animal. I heard her say, “No!” and feared for the animal’s life. I watched my next door neighbor go inside and outside with his dog. He said “Hello,” to me both times. This is all my neighbor ever says to me. I am beginning to think he suffers from short-term memory loss. Or maybe I just don’t know what politeness is.
(Sidenote: Are you required to voice the word “hello” to the same person in the span of twenty minutes? Or is it hello the first time, and then a wave/nod/fist pump thereafter?)
Nevertheless, I got back in, wrote dear old Sam a check, stuffed my keys in my pocket, threw out another bag of garbage, and sat down to write this… only to realize I stepped on my computer battery with my wet shoe. It was leaking battery acid; now it’s not. It seems to still charge the thing, so I’ll deal with that when I have money… because I certainly don’t now!
(Did I mention I’m going to Texas next weekend? Did I mention it can’t come soon enough?)
Have a good night, everyone.