I've been meaning to call in a few maintenance requests around the apartment: a little plastic decorative piece fell off one of my bathroom faucet knobs, the sliding glass door's lock is broken and keeps falling into the shut/locked position, Gracie has completely shredded the door jams and they should probably be fixed.
Because cats know how to be obnoxious. Yesterday during my lunch break, I was going to pop home for something to eat before stopping at the bank to make a deposit and heading back to work, but alas, when I walked in and put my purse down, I heard Garfunkel scraping at the carpet ...burying ...something. Not only had Garfunkel defecated in the dining room, as he is wont to do when the litterbox is full, Gracie, it turned out, had also peed on the couch.
I love cats.
Any dreams I'd had of making it to the bank dissipated quickly as I cleaned up after the cats, sprayed both spots with stain remover, then went out on the balcony to water my plants while I waited for the stain remover to sink in.
Whereupon, without thinking, I closed the sliding door behind me and locked myself out on the balcony.
Which is how I discovered that you can call for help all you want in my neighborhood and it'll do you no good if everyone's got their windows closed and their A/C on.
Miraculously, my roommate happened to show up only about 20 minutes later, before I had to decide between lowering myself to the ground and waiting for someone to eventually wander by who could alert the apartment office. I was glad to be back in before I needed, say, a bathroom, but a little disappointed that I didn't get to take an impromptu few hours off work. I've got very straight priorities like that.
What a great story! I mean, sucks to clean up cat shit and be locked out on a balcony, but seriously, it made for a great story.
ReplyDeleteA moment like that, I'd be thankful to have a roommate. The story of when I got locked out of my place doesn't end so happily.
ReplyDeleteHave I reminded you lately that I can bust down a door? I feel that I should regularly remind people of this fact.
I know, right? I was stuck out there way overheated, sweating, hungry, no water, in a craptastic mood, but thinking... this is going to be *so* awesome in the retelling.
ReplyDeleteAnd Michele, weren't you also barefoot? In the dead of winter? Maybe my memory is making this story more melodramatic than it actually was.