Yesterday morning I was working from home when I heard Calvin and Theo trying to pick a fight with the mutant Yorkies on the other side of the fence. No yorkie should be as strangely tall as these weirdos…
Being the considerate neighbour that I am, I happily skipped out into the sunshine in my pajamas to break up the barking match. As the light dew touched the bottoms of my uncovered feet and the sun shone down on my face, I thought to myself about how truly lucky I am in life. I walked back to the french doors on our deck, so optimistic about life that there were practically lolipops and unicorns falling out of my orifices, and took one deep breath of summer air before getting back down to business inside.
And then my day went straight to hell when I realized I had locked my stupid ass outside without keys, phone, shoes, socks, or underwear.
You know how moms sometimes remind us to wear clean underwear in case you get hit by a bus? Well…now I know that in times of need, ANY UNDERWEAR AT ALL WOULD BE NICE.
So there I am. Absolutely fucked.
MacGyver would have probably trained the dachshunds to enter through the air circulation ducts, locate the keys and bring them back, getting him inside in about eight minutes flat. What he doesn’t know is that the dachshund would get in – sure – but would then spend the day curled up on a pillow, leaving MacGyver for dead.
Instead, I spent the first 40 minutes trying to break into my house with no success (which is a win, I guess…), the next 20 minutes moping about the situation, and the next 30 minutes wishing that I would just die so I wouldn’t have to do the things I knew I was going to have to do:
The dogs were left in the yard as I roamed the neighbourhood in very thin pants, alternately keeping myself from getting a wedgie and a man-camel-toe while prancing to keep from getting hepatitis of the foot. Thanks to a neighbour’s small front door window – keeping him from seeing that I looked a meth-addicted hustler – I finally got access to a phone and started making those embarrassing calls.
First to the newf – voicemail. Then to the office – sympathetic laughter. Then to the cab company – dread.
Yes. I got in a cab barefoot and got dropped off at the newf’s school where I had to sit in the main office and wait for one of his students to bring up our housekeys while the secretary looked like she wanted to spray me down with Lysol. It was like that dream where you think you’re at school in your underwear except EVERY SINGLE PART OF IT WAS REAL.
But, as many bloggers so often do, I’m going to take something traumatizing and turn it something for you to laugh at:
While this picture is staged, it is the exact outfit I rocked while going through all of this – oh, except I did put on underwear because you really don’t understand how clingy those pants can be…
…just ask my entire neighbourhood, the cab driver, or all of the newf’s coworkers and students.
FML. Epic Fail. Etc.
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