Wednesday, July 25, 2007

"Hello, this is Gordon of the Violent Femmes…

…and I've just been locked inside my house, so I can't go out and uh get my bus and stuff and get up there by one 'clock. I'll...someone's coming over to rescue me so... it wasn't my fault. My parents had locked me in. So, I'll get there whenever I can. Maybe I'll try calling Victor at his house or something like that. OK, ah bye"


OK, so I really didn't think it was possible—but today I got locked inside my own house. And I have to admit that it incited a minor panic attack.

Last week the roommate and I moved into our new palatial abode which is located about one mile from downtown (we were previously about 25 yards from downtown). So, now when heading over to Pearl Street we have begun to refer to it as "going into town." As if it was the kind of trek into town from some rural lean-to that requires at least half a tank of gas, sled dogs, CB radio, emergency blanket and list of supplies and dry goods to be schlepped back.

Around 11 the roommate "went to town" and miraculously remembered to lock and close the front door as I was in the office at the back of the house--and he's not what I would describe as a "safety concerned" kind of guy. About half an hour later I went to leave and "go into town" for my lunch meeting and when I went to turn the handle on the front door—it did nothing. I had just gotten out of the shower, so maybe there was lotion or something on my hands making them slippery. So, I wiped them off and tried the door again. No dice. WTF am I supposed to do now…call my client and explain that I am locked inside my house…?!?

I know this is completely ridonkulous, we live in a 3 bedroom ranch style house, that is quite spacious and all the windows were open, but I actually started to feel incredibly claustrophobic and was having a hard time breathing and thinking (guess those two are related…)

Now we do have a side door, but the catch is that the landlord lost the keys to the side door and is in the process of replacing them. So, technically I could leave, but I couldn't lock the door, now it is Boulder, so odds are pretty safe that the house would be safe—but I'd hate to be the douche bag that gets robbed because they didn't lock the door. I decided to bank on Karma and called the roommate to alert him of the door situation, crossing my fingers he would remember it when he got home later and not try to break down the front door (it's happened before…twice, wouldn't be a good thing to happen the first week we live there).

All in all, the house was safe. And the roommate and I spent half an hour dissecting the doorknob and yelling at each other through the front door and over the rumble of three fans. "I said hold the knob god damn tight." "No, you said turn the knob to the god damned right." Wow, the neighbors must love us already.

Anyhoo, now I get to make the embarrassing call to the new landlord explaining that we are locked in the new house.

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