As you know (if you've read last post), I was with my friend Tori while she dog/house-sitted for a semi-celeb/do-gooder last week. I stayed with her a few nights considering house-sitting isn't all that exciting if done alone. And besides, I've been there before, tolerated the dog enough to say, "Yeah, I'm down to not live in my own house for a week and use someone else's toilet."
Tori had to work late filming (yeah, she works in tha bizzzzz) and told me to let the dog out when I got home. However, the back sliding door to the deck is tricky - one must take off this piece of wood to open it. The wood serves as a sort of "lock" since the door itself is umm..."under construction." Easy peasy right? Well, not quite. I got home to see Buddy, the rambunctious Cockapoo sitting on the couch staring at me. He got up with excitement and came over and started jumping on me and all that annoying shit. He even trickled a little piss out, he was that excited. Ugh.
After being in traffic for an hour, I bought two bottles of wine before getting to the house. I locked the front door behind me, set everything down, tended to the pee on the floor and let Buddy out to I guess pee some more if he didn't already get it all over the kitchen floor. I cleaned it, of course #duh. I thought I'd hang out with Buddy on the deck for a bit while he did his thing and THOUGHT I didn't close the sliding door behind me all the way. Well, remember that said piece of wood? Yah, well it fell. And the door couldn't be opened. Not even a smidge for me to get my fingers through and try to umm, not be able to do anything. FML, I thought. I was locked out with a dog, no keys, no phone, no jacket (it was windy and cloudy), and no food. What the fuck.
I tried going around the house to see if any windows were left unlocked. Nil. The back door locked, the front door locked (thanks to me), and the garage door opener was broken. Cool. I remember the last thing Tori texted me was that two of the guests had to be flown back for being sick or something so there was a slight possibility of her coming home a little early. Okay, great...she'd be home before 8pm, so maybe we'll just chill out here (literally). Yeah, it sucked because it was 6pm, then 7, 830, and 930 rolls around and after chasing Buddy around the yard, yelling at him to come back to the deck, telling him to shut the fuh up when he barked at the slightest noise, and having a crying sesh, I decide it's time to ask for help.
You're probably thinking, "What the hell kind of dumb idiot are you for not asking for help in the first place?!" Well, here is my reasoning: I'm not the one assigned to dog/house sit for these people. I'm merely staying with the person who is assigned that duty. So I'm not technically affiliated with the house, the dog, the family, etc. It would be strange for me to say, "Hi, uhh my friend is house-sitting for them and I got locked out." Get it? And I'm sure they've seen my friend on numerous occasions house-sitting at that house so they'd probably think what is this weird half-asian, confused-looking chick doing with a cockapoo outside a house that's not hers?
I finally got help - the neighbor across the street was smoking a cigarette on his porch. I used his iPhone (since he didn't have a phone book like ordinary people would) and was able to pull up my friend's house number (Spokeo.com is creeepyyyy). Her mom answered, "Oh thank God! We were all worried about you because you weren't answering your phone! Tori was having a fit. She's on her way there now!" Tori came home, kinda gave me this smile that said, "What the fuck did you do?/Only this would happen to you" type of smile. "I was going 90 on 287," she said. We laughed, we hugged, we were both relieved that I wasn't dead or struggling by myself with a dog and no way into a house.
However, trying to open the front door was no laughing matter. The dead bolt was stuck. For two hours we tried to open the front door. She had the key and everything. Even her mom ended up coming over. The dog and I still hadn't eaten and it was barking up a storm at every car driving through the neighborhood. So annoying. Tori's mom had to bounce to go pick up her cousin from the bus stop, leaving Tori and I to fend for ourselves. Luckily, Tori found a wrench in her car. She tried to turn the key in the lock with the wrench only to snap the key in half.
FUCK.
I had longer nails, so after fifteen minutes I was able to pull the little fucker out of the lock. Key #1 - done. There was a spare key but after seeing what happened the first time, we just kinda stood there. I was panicking considering I had to work the next day and all I had on me were the clothes I wore to work and my key fob that gets me into my office. Greatttt. Tori called the nanny, who said she had the same problem before and was able to open it using a lot of pressure and great strength. We felt like idiots. Why couldn't we open this fucking door? The nanny drove over and we told her about the wrench and the key snapping in half. She took the wrench and we could see that she was going to do the same thing we did. Tori and I looked at each other. Ummmmmm....
The sweet, Irish woman (brogue included), smaller than the both of us, turned the wrench and easy as pie she gets the dead bolt to turn. Silence. Shock. My jaw is one the ground. Buddy ran into the house and before we even get to the kitchen, his dog bowl is clean. I felt so bad he was hungry, despite hating him the rest of the time. "Now, relax, go have your wine and just sit down," Geraldene said. "Can I give you a hug?!" I asked her. I look at the clock: 1045pm. I look at my phone: 15 missed calls (mostly from Tori and other people she had call me), 1 bbm, and 1 text from someone I didn't care to hear from.We had 3 glasses of wine that night.
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| If it weren't for you... |
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