So Tuesday was an interesting, exhausting, trying day. I went to a Dr. appointment at 10:30 and when I checked in at the desk the receptionist asked me if I realized my appointment was at 11:30. Apperently I had written it down wrong. I decided to wait because by the time I got home I’d have to turn right back around anyway and I’d brought a book to read, so no big deal. I just felt silly. A few minutes later, someone who was helping my Dr. that day asked if I would mind her doing the exam and she could get me in right away. I went with her and was done in no time flat and was also able to schedule the rest of my visits until I’m induced. It’s getting so close I just can’t believe it!
On my way home I went grocery shopping and bought a watermelon. It ended up not being a very ripe one, but I also got some cherries and that more than made up for it. I haven’t had cherries in so long! YUM!
When I got home I called NYDD to see if he could help me haul everything in but he was already in the city doing his clinical rotation for the day. We have a little cart in a storage room by our car that we can use to bring things inside and up to our apartment so I got that out and loaded it up. I pushed the elevator button and as I was waiting I went out to check the mail. I was holding 4 different sets of keys (car keys, garage door key, apartment keys, and manager keys). When the elevator arrived I opened the door, started to get my stuff in, and dropped my apartment keys. Oh, no, not just on the floor. I managed to aim them right through the one inch strip of nothing between the elevator compartment and the ground floor. That’s right. They fell down the shaft. I couldn’t believe it. I actually stood there for a full 30 seconds looking at where they had dropped through. I almost started laughing because I make a big deal of knowing where my keys are and never locking myself out, yet there I was locked out of my apartment. Were I not the manager I would have called the manager to let me in, but as I am and I have all the spare keys in, you guessed it, my apartment, I had not way to get in. Keep in mind I also had a load of groceries, much of which would go bad and/or melt in the next 45 minutes let alone before NYDD would get home from his clinicals. So I took the rest of my stuff upstairs and left it by my apartment door. I then tried every single key on my manager ring to see if I accidently had an extra on there. No dice. Then I remembered, we have a balcony. . .
I went outside to look at it and noticed that NYDD, also now known as Mr. Security, had left the glass sliding door open, though the screen door was closed (we have different ideas about what is secure anyway, but that’s another story; suffice it to say I’m the security freak in our little family). Had I not been locked out I would have been ticked. As it was, I couldn’t complain. Our building has a ground floor where the garage, lobby, and manager office is. We live just above that on the first floor. It’s a ways up so I needed something to stand on. Since I still had my manager keys I got a chair from the office and propped it under our balcony. On only my second attempt I was actually able to scale the thing and get into our apartment. I wrenched a few leg and arm muscles and was quite humiliated by the whole experience, but I made it. What makes the story even funnier is we live at the front of the building and there is a man who walks his three tiny, little dogs around our street like eight times a day. At this particular moment he was right in front of our apartment. When I started he was walking down the other side of the road and by the time I heaved myself up and over he was on our side of the street walking back up. He gave me this weird look so I just smiled and waved hoping to silently reassure him I had a right to be there. Anyway, I caught my breath (not very easy as my lungs currently only inflate to the size of tennis balls) and went inside. I brought in my groceries from the hall, took the cart back downstairs, and put away the chair I’d left outside. Then I put away only the things the needed to be refridgerated or frozen and passed out on the couch for the next two hours. I was exhausted. I figured I should hang around for a while anyway because I half expected several people from across the street to call and tell me there was a nutso pregnant woman scaling one of our balconies and they just wanted me to be aware of it. Fortunately I got no such calls and I was able to sleep the entire two hours.
I still had a few errands to run after I woke up so I forced myself to get up and do them. I called my mom and told her about my traumatic day and after being assured I was okay she laughed. On my way home NYDD called and I told him I had quite the story, but he’d have to wait until I got home to hear it. I knew he’d be upset (read: poop a brick) so I decided it would be better to tell him in person rather than on the phone. I was right. He totally freaked out when I told him, but I couldn’t really hide it because for one thing I’m a terrible liar, and for another how else would I explain no apartment keys but still having access to the apartment. So the truth came out and he was not pleased.
The next day my mom called to make sure I hadn’t gone into labor or anything from the experience and to see if I’d got an email from my daddy. Apperently his reaction was very similar to NYDD’s. I hadn’t heard anything from him though. It’s true, I probably shouldn’t have done it, and I certinly didn’t enjoy it, but it really seemed perfectly reasonable to my pregnant, not so well-working brain at the time. From my perspective now, looking back, I wouldn’t recommend it to any preggo gal, but I promise it made sense to me as it was happening. Oh, I hope someday I can return to rational thinking. . .
