So I’m sitting at home at 11:30 at night on a Friday, reading other blogs and thinking to myself “You really should post something. Write. Be productive.”, but then the evil part of my brain that doubts anything I do is like “Is drunk blogging really responsible? I know you do it all the time, but putting your thoughts out to the universe while under the influence might not be a wise decision. What would you even blog about?”, and so I ignore my brain and pour another drink because I have avoidance issues.
Then two minutes later I’m out on my deck and I hear “Excuse me?” and I think for a moment that I might be going crazy but then I can make out a woman in the darkness two decks over.
Her: “I’ve gotten locked out on my deck. Do you think you can come over and unlock the door so I can get in? The front door is open.”
Me: “Like, into your apartment?”
Her: “Yes, the door’s open.”
Me, in my head: Is this really happening?
Me: “And unlock your deck door to let you back inside? Like, just come over there and walk right into your apartment? To let you back in? To your own apartment? Really?”
Her: “Yes, It’s ok. Just go around front and the door’s open. Thank you!”
This woman appeared to be legit trapped on a deck. I went back inside, and put on pants instead of pajama bottoms (stop judging me. Not every Friday night is filled with madness and adventure) and for some reason also put on jewelery because I’m slightly obsessive-compulsive about always looking like I have my shit together (Ha!) when meeting someone new even if that someone new was a neighbor who basically requested that I break-and-enter into her apartment because she had gotten locked out on her own deck. Or her friends deck. I didn’t actually catch the complete story because the wind was loud I’m already half-deaf from having the hearing capacity of an 80-year-old despite being only 28.
As I reached for the door handle, to a complete stranger’s apartment, I thought “Well this is awkward. I sure hope this wasn’t an elaborate scheme to break into someone’s apartment. That would be just the thing to happen to me. ‘Girl accidentally lets robber into neighbor’s apartment’. But that can’t be what’s happening here. She told me the door was open. A robber that knew that would just go through the front door. Logic my friend. This is totally fine. Unless she’s like the witch in Hansel and Gretel and is luring me inside to cook me. I can probably take her though. I can’t believe how much I wanna knock before entering even though I know that it’s completely pointless. If I did knock, I’d totally knock Sheldon-style though. Why do these kind of things always happen to me?”
She turned out to be a sweet old lady but it was still super awkward to walk into a strangers apartment like I owned the place. I took it as a sign from the universe that I should be blogging so I decided to share the story with you. You’re welcome. Or I’m sorry. Hard to tell when I’ve had this much rum.
PS: I considered going back and asking her to take a picture for my blog, but
I didn’t feel like having the cops called on me that would be too awkward. Even for me. And I didn’t think of it until after I’d left. Talk about missed opportunities.
PPS: My hair looks great. Why is it that my hair only decides to look great when I’m not going out and I’m not going to see anyone but as soon as I have places to go and people to see it’s like “Fuck you bitch, I don’t answer to you!! You’re going to look like a mess tonight. And not even a hot one”. I dub this the “law of hair and social relativity”. Einstein would be proud. Probably.