My day has been challenging and it's only 10 am.
So I'm housesitting/dogsitting for a good friend of mine while they're out of town, which is the sweetest deal ever because I can go to work and make money and make money while working and making money. It's like poor-college-kid-trying-to-pay-off-school heaven. Plus, Amber is awesome and her dogs are adorable, so everyone wins.
Anyway, so I'm housesitting and I've only been here since Saturday, but I feel like I'm getting settled into the routine of taking care of the dogs and knowing where stuff is and whatnot. I get ready for the day, do my hair and makeup, and eat breakfast, and all that's left to do is get dressed and leave for work.
Now let me explain the root of this problem- the other day, my dad informed me that after work we would be meeting up and going shopping for "professional" clothes, which got me excited, because shopping, that's why. Anyway, so we meet up at DownEast because there are cute clothes there...but I was informed that cute church skirts apparently don't equal office wear? I dunno. So we ended up at JCPenney and got me some classy Liz Claiborne blouses (My definition of "blouse" and my dad's definition of "blouse" are two very different words. Like, I was thinking a cute cotton-y top with lace on it or something and he was thinking button-up with long sleeves and no cute butterfly/bike/owl print and not even anything sparkly...what the heck, dad?) and pencil skirts and whatever. And, as annoyed as I was that I needed to dress up, it was fun getting some really nice-looking stuff, considering that most of the time I wear jeans with a "tee" (not a blouse, don't call it a blouse!) and some cute sandals or something. What can I say, I'm 18, I can pretty much wear whatever I want.
Anyway, the stuff that i got was really nice and needed to be hand-washed and ironed and whatever. So, in an effort to keep these professional clothes wrinkle-free and ever classy, I hung them up in the car. When I get ready, I will go pick a top out of the car and go change and it's no biggy and whatever. So I go outside to get my colorful, polka-dotty top, still in my pjs (American flag tshirt and Fremont Junior High PE shorts (yeah, I still have them)) and I hear the door, that I left cracked a little bit so I could easily walk back in and the dogs wouldn't run out, click shut. I figured this was no biggie, because I had unlocked the locks from the inside before walking out to get my top. Sorry, blouse. But somehow the bottom lock, which has been tricky for me anyway, fell shut and locked me out. I ran back to the car to grab my extra key and when I looked into the car I realized with horror that I HAD LEFT BOTH SETS OF SPARE KEYS IN THE HOUSE, ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER. LIKE, MAYBE 5 FEET FROM THE DOOR. WHICH HAD APPARENTLY DECIDED TO LOCK ITSELF. I freaked out and tried to think of solutions and my first thought was that Amber had said something about a spare key in the back. I grabbed the only shoes I happened to have in the car (my sparkly black work flats- what can I say, I keep my footwear classy even when I'm in my pajamas) and walked around the back. The dogs had run out of the doggy door and were barking at me as if to say "Hey Lauren why are you outside you silly human you just come on inside through the doggy door okay why are you so upset come play with me friend I love you wait why are we outside can I have a treat PLAY WITH ME PRETTY PLEASE" and I tried to focus and find this key. It wasn't in the grill. It wasn't under the rug. Finally, I saw one of those extra key things attached to the hose and angels started singing and I was like WOOP gonna go get dressed, told you it was no biggie, self!
Aaaaand the key wasn't in there. And then I thought what cruel person buys a spare key compartment thing WITH NO SPARE KEY INSIDE. Then it hit me that OHHH that must be the spare key I was given that is sitting on the counter, in the kitchen, next to the original set of keys I was given. Gotcha. So I was the cruel, heartless soul who took my spare keys from myself. K.
And here's where my freaking out escalated and I was like crap, now I probably need to go get help because my freaking phone is inside. And if i need to go get help that means I have to talk to people in my pjs with no bra while wearing my sparkly work shoes. WHY.
My only other solution that was coming to mind was to go talk to Amber's neighbor, Gena, who is super chill and might also have a key and probably won't judge my choice of outfit.
So I get in the car because I had my car keys because I'm not THAT stupid and go to Gena's. Aaaand I knock on the door and she isn't there.
So I sat there in the mini, with my work shirt hanging up behind me, mocking me in the rearview mirror, laughing at my stupidity. Well, I mean, not LITERALLY but I could feel it's judgey-ness.
So then I figure my only option left is to show up to Bonita's house, unannounced. I mean, I kind of do this anyways, but never in pajamas at 9 am to ask if I can use her phone because mine is locked in the house along with the two sets of keys I have to said house and also, can I call Canada? Because my family is suddenly Canadian and I'm not. Typical stuff.
But really, I did go to the Frost's and Bonita seemed a little confused about why I hadn't texted her before I showed up, but she was cool and even let me use her cell phone to call Canada and cry to my mom about how I would probably die without all my stuff. She said to calm down and gave me Amber's number so I could text her. After a lot of phone calls from me and my mom and a lot of searching, we found out that Gena wasn't answering her phone, this has happened before, and that the simplest solution was to track down a small child who was little enough to fit through the tiny dog door. But of course! Why didn't I think of that?
I guess I thought maybe it would be weird to track down some little kid I don't know, ask them to come with me to a house that isn't mine, and basically break in for me. I'm not a criminal, I swear. (That's probably what all criminals say).
So anyway, then my mom is like "Oh!! Dylan (my cousin) is probably out in Mesa for swim practice...I'll call them." And, since the universe decided to not hate me for once, he was, in fact, in Mesa, and right around the corner.
So Bonita and I drove seperately down to the house like a caravan of weirdos, so that she would have her phone on her incase we needed backup. Wes and Dylan were already there when Bonita and I arrived, and Dylan squeezed through the little doggy door, which was actually kind of unbelievable to me because that thing was SMALL.
Anyway, the point is, I got in the house. And I have basically had the keys in my hand ever since.
Oh, and I will probably be getting some ice cream tonight. Because it was traumatizing, that's why.
No comments:
Post a Comment