Locked out

I came home from work on Thursday to find myself locked out.

When Chebbar works nights, I wake him up when I get home (apparently it's "nicer" to be woken up by a human rather than the BLAT!BLAT!BLAT! of an alarm). Up until I started the new job, this hasn't been an issue because I'd be home a good 40 minutes before it was time to wake him up. However, in my first week, there was an accident on the highway that turned my 35 minute commute into an hour long jaunt (and that was taking the back roads). I made it home with two minutes to spare. At that time, I mentioned that it would probably be best if he didn't rely on me to get him up, that he should set the alarm and if I got home on time, I would sneak in and turn it off and wake him later.

Fast forward two weeks. I got home from work, unlocked the door, and threw the door open. Well, sort of. My attempt to throw the door open was stopped around the 2" mark with a loud BANG! I thought "what the hell?" before looking and seeing the lovely U-shaped bracket of the hotel-type lock across the teeny, tiny opening.

Oh, shit.

I stuck my fingers through, hoping I could somehow push the bracket off the post. No dice. I thought maybe if I closed the door completely and reopened it, I might have more luck. Again, no dice. You see, the damned lock was doing its damned job and working the way it was damned well supposed to.

Well, I panicked. I called my mom and heard myself say "I know you can't help me, but I'm panicking and I need my mommy and I HAFTA PEEEEE!"

She laughed at me.

I ended up going to my parents' (who fed me -- thanks again, Mom!) and fretted, making myself sick to my stomach with worry. When was he going to wake up? How late for work was he going to be? Was he going to be mad at me (totally, completely illogical, but I have Catholic guilt)?

And then I went to the patently ridiculous: what if he DIDN'T wake up?!? What if he DIED in his SLEEP?!? (Because me being able to wake him up at 5:30 would prevent that, right? *eye roll*)

It's an extremely disconcerting feeling to know that there is literally no way into your home. All of a sudden the security of living on the top floor of the building wasn't such a good thing. And because he was working nights and I'm a spazz, the office window was locked and I had the stick in the patio door (this allows me to leave it cracked about 2" to get fresh air in overnight/while I'm at work), so even if I managed to find a reaaaaally tall ladder, I'd have to bust TWO windows (single-pane storm windows FTL, peeps) to get inside the apartment. Oh, and then I'd be left with a broken window overnight. Alone. Yeah, wouldn't be sleeping.

Did I mention I called his dad? Yeah, go me. lol Not because I thought he'd have a magical solution, but they work together (opposite shifts) and a) I wanted advice as to whether or not I should call and let work know is going to be late (but how late I didn't know) and b) I didn't want him to worry when Chebbar didn't show up at 8pm.

He laughed at me, too.

Chebbar FINALLY called me at 6:30, sounding half-asleep and freaked out. He only woke up because his nose was plugged and he couldn't breathe. When he got up to go to the washroom, he saw the time and thought he was seeing things. When he realized it was really 6:30 and that I hadn't woken him up (and that I wasn't home), he started to panic. He told me that he expected a paramedic to answer my phone (poor bugger -- maybe now he knows how *I* feel when HE doesn't call when he's going to be late... hehehe).

He asked me where I was and why I wasn't home, so I told him to go look at the door. When he saw the lock across the door, he groaned and swore he didn't remember doing that when he got home. I told him that I doubted he even did it: if the bracket is too far forward, it will catch the teeniest, tiniest bit of the tip of the post, and that is enough to engage the lock.

Every time either one of us has left since then, we've been uber-vigilant about pushing that damned bracket all the way back against the wall (because wouldn't it suck hairy goat balls if it happened while no one was home?!? *dies*).

Mom kept apologizing for laughing last week, insisting it was funny. I kept replying (quite grumpily, I might add), that no, it really wasn't.

After a few days' worth of perspective, it's pretty funny. Just don't tell her I said so.