A Few Complications And A Flight - BLOGMAS DAY 1

Welcome to this year's Blogmas, lovelies! Coming to you from the airport, about to board a plane home, so let me start off by cheating a little and tell you about yesterday....

In my apartment

Shoes on, coat on, earbuds in, bag on shoulder - oh, this place is a mess. my boots are leaning against the front door, so I carefully open it so they don't fall (you know how much I love those boots) and slide through it, getting my hair stuck on the speaker system and my coat stuck on the door handle, so I use both hands to untangle it - and before I know it, the door is shut.

Oh.

Like, "shut and my key's still in there".

In the hallway

So, apparently I locked myself out. If I try really really hard to see a bright side to this, I'd say I'd get to experience adulthood in all its annoying facets. It doesn't sound very convincing, to be fair.

The bulding administrator's office

"Well, that's something you come here with, kiddo." He sounds a bit bugged, which bugs me, because it's not like I planned this (which I tell him) and this kind of stuff is his job (which I don't tell me, 'cause I need his help). He says you can't just put the extra key in there because my own key is stuck. He also says that, in case there's no McGyver-way to open up, the locks need to be changed and that is gonna be expensive. Awesome. I nod it all off and try to call into the office because I have a feeling this is going to take a while. No one answer's, which is weird, but I'm too stressed wondering what exactly "expensive" means to this man to care.

The café next door

I can't even get into the building and it's freezing, so I'm here to wait for the locksmith. I'm also crying a little after calling my mom (she didn't make me cry, but I hate to have to admit stuff like this, especially with the word "expensive" being used. It's just such a waste of what could've spent shopping or eating or doing your hair), and the barista made me sit and have some hot chocolate and her husband is offering me to go have a look at my door. When I say that we can't get to the door he drafts up a plan to climb onto the balcony, which does so not sound like something the building administration would approve of, so I (hopefully) politely decline. His brother comes in and gives me the number of his personal locksmith service which is supposed to be the cheapest, and even though I kinda have to use the one that's coming, I obediently write down his phone number. And his cell number. Then I try to change the subject from forcefully breaking locks to "so, where are you from", which the barista's husband gladly picks up. They're Aramean, he tells me. "Oh that's nice, where is that", I ask. "We have no country." Oh. Well. "We speak Aramaic. Jesus' language", he solemnly nodded. "Really", I say, "that's cool". I have to admit I never heard of that, but I just googled it and it is a thing. You really do learn new things everyday.

In the hallway again

"It doesn't work with the card. We might have to use the drill." The locksmith is a little grumpy, but he's not thrown numbers at me yet so I like him. What I don't like is the word drill in this context, however. "And you're sure another key wouldn't help?", I weakly say. "You have another key?" Um, kind of. The mother of the guy who usually lives here does. But the administration guy crushed my hopes that simply giving her a call would do any good, so I didn't. And now you're telling me it's going to be as easy as that?


In the office

Okay, easy is not the right word. I've headed to the office, because the mother of the guy who usually lives in the apartment was in a meeting and is gonna call me "this afternoon", whenever that is gonna be (the locksmith only works until four, so if I don't get in before that I'll be homeless for the night. Or call that number the barista's husband's brother gave me. So that he can use the scary drill and wake all the other tenants up. And I still have to pack for tomorrow. And the kitchen's an embarrassment. Gosh, this is actually stressful). When I arrived here, all ready to rant about my crazy morning, I walked into the weirdest atmosphere ever. All the editor's look like they've just seen a ghost. Some are crying. Some are disappearing for a smoke that seems to be turning into a nicotine fest. Us interns are huddling and whispering about why everything is so ominous and when someone comes in, we jump apart and back to our desks like we're starring in a really bad sitcom. I'm not sure I can tell anyone what's happened here (no matter of life or death, in case you're getting worried) but you might figure it out on your own. Anyways, there isn't much work to do, so I don't feel bad about constantly staring at my phone.

Outside the Apple store, in the freezing cold

I'm waiting for the mother of the guy who usually lives here, who said she'd be here in an hour and a half exactly an hour and fourty minutes ago, and my fingers are turning red with cold. I'm wearing t-strap heels. The only things keeping me from shivering are my disco pants and my hair extensions (I've got such thin hair that it never provides me with any extra warmth on its own. Is that too much information to share?). Man, this is like waiting for a blind date, only messed up in that I'm waiting for a middle-aged woman to save me from the cold hard streets (alright, I'd probably wind up at one of the intern's places) and I'm holding a packet of Merci chocolates (ain't I thoughtful. Even though I did send that woman all over town on a workday). Great, now she's calling to say that she'll make it to the station right by my workplace. Where I'm not anymore. Now I gotta run in my heels, to top all this off.

In the hallway, again

I made it! I got inside! It was the lightest motion, a flick of my wrist, and the lock snapped right open. Phew. And it's only four pm, so I got loads of time to get my stuff done and won't have to go to bed at 1 am, as it has become my habit lately (I really don't know how that happened, but my new obsession with Jane The Virgin and my 30 day trial Netflix subscription might have contributed to it).

So yeah. Always have your key in your hand where you can see it before you shut your door.

And get excited for December.

Love,

Rosy Smith