No really, I’m stuck. In the house. It’s a beautiful Chicago afternoon (it’s mid-September, we won’t have many more of these), and I decided to leave to purchase eggs, bread and milk for the house. I step outside, breathe deeply and smile brightly as the late summer sun hits my face. I shove the last bit of my frosted sugar cookie in my mouth and proceed to walk down my stoop. I stick my key in the front gate’s lock, turn and…nothing.
I say to myself as I turn the key again. Once more, nothing. I turn and pull and tug and kick, and still, nothing. Upon realizing the door is against me getting food, my determination (read: Napoleon Complex) kicks in and I decide to jump the gate.
I thought about all the hours spent watching my brother play Tomb Raider and thinking how cool it would be to be Lara Croft for one moment, and today is that day! Laughable.
That’s when the inner adult slapped me back to reality. I thought about scraping my knee, my knuckles, twisting my ankle as I jumped from the fence, ANYTHING that could possibly go wrong. Then I climb back down.
However, little Napoleon is relentless. I go back to the gate and investigate the lock to see if I can fix it, and then I spot the culprit. A screw. A miggyfiggy screw! This d*&# screw is sticking out and keeping me from opening the gate by banging against the latch!
Maybe I can push it back in.
I grab my old house key and stick it in the hole (don’t you “that’s what she said” me either) and attempt to force the key back in.
It doesn’t work.
I don’t want to accept defeat, but I must. So now, I am sitting in my living room, trapped. Like a prisoner. Maybe I’ll actually go back out with a cup and slide it across the bars. Feel free to come visit.
- charmnecklace posted this