I know this is completely cheating, but I have not been on here in so damn long that I forgot my stinking password, and got locked out of my account...hang on...I got's to write this sucker down!
Okay...done.
So speaking of locked out. I wrote this entry back in good ole' (that's short for old, not ole!, as in the expression of my culture's excitement) 2006, when I was pregnant with my first daughter Mirah. Being locked out of my blog reminded me of being locked "in" my house. So this one's for Jennifer D., by popular demand.
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I know it's been a while.
This is what happens when you're pregnant. You have these insane lapses of forgetfulness. Sometimes they seem to go on for a couple of minutes, sometimes hours, possibly days. But for me, they come in spurts. Don't ask Kris that same question about my forgetfulness, because he likes to lie on Tuesdays.
I'm now in day two of my three days off. Makes me very happy. Usually the first day I loaf around and do nothing. Veg out, watch TV, think about exercising that I should be doing, but that makes me tired so I stop. The second day, I usually have a plan of attack. And for the most part, I even write it down on paper of the things I want to do. It makes me feel accomplished, and also I'm a bit concieted about my own handwritting so I just like to look at it.
By the third day things are done, I'm well rested and bored, and ready to go back to work.
But today...today was list day!!! Do things. Do the dishes, clean the bathroom, do the laundry (ok wash and fold will do them), touch ups on the baby room, go do some comfy clothes shopping. I even planned to shop in my jammies that look like sweat pants, and see if anyone noticed, b/c these days it's all about comfort.
But something horrible happened. I got trapped. I'm a prisoner in my own house. I left my keys in Kris' car last night. I usually always take my keys, even when I'm not driving. It's like I don't want them to feel left out, and because I was the last one out the door. And I think K and I have this secret unspoken thing, that if you are the last out the door, you have to lock it. So of course I was last, hence, my keys were in his glove box.
You would think I should leave them out, so I would see them and remember that "Oh, look, there are my keys...I should take them." But that would mean criminals would see the keys, think they are to K's car, and steal it and we would be stuck in the rain, with our overpriced clementines and currants crying in the parking lot. So that's why my keys are trapped in his glovebox, with his car, with him, in Sugarland.
A rational person would think, "Hey, it's not that bad. You're in your own house. You have food, you have a bathroom, you're pretty set." But I'm not rational, and it's making me crazy.
I realized this horrible event was happening when I asked the dogs if they wanted to go outside, which automatically sends them into a tizzy. I saw the door was locked, so went to get my key from it's usual spot... the food pantry (don't ask), and saw it wasn't there. My name badge was there, a leash was there, the muffin mix was all there and accounted for, but not my keys. Damn.
I looked in the other "key spot" and found my extra set of car keys, but no house key. Damn.
At this point I was mad because I couldn't get out, but then I felt really bad, because the whole time I was looking the dogs are doing their crazy "Yay, we're going outside to bark at nothing dance." Then the guilt set in. I called Kris and told him, and he said my full name. Middle name and all. I knew that meant he was smiling on the other end laughing at my predicament. But I bet secretly he thought, "Hey, I could get out of work for this...Preggo is home, stuck, I must rescue her." I know he thought this, because I thought it too, and we're usually on the same wave length. He finished laughing and told me to have a talk with the dogs, which I did, and they seemed to understand, or they didn't care, because I gave them a treat at the same time.
Then Kris said the unthinkable..."You can still clean the house."
The horror. I know, the thought was in my head. It was on the list. But uggghhh, I hate cleaning. You can ask Trang. I think I'm allergic. But it's my only option right now. I have nothing else to do. Which is why I'm writting right now, and this is unbelievably long.
I thought about ordering a pizza and having the money all ready, and then when they came to the door, I would walk around like I was looking for a key, and then they would see I coulnd't find it. Then I would proceed to cry while pressing the money against the window. I wonder what they would do. Can they ban people from ordering pizza?
Addendum:
I even thought about dropping the dogs out the screen window, in case they had to emergency potty, but then I wouldn't be able to get them back in. I even thought I should drop them and a chair out the window so they could do their thing then jump back on the chair, and I would bring them back in. But I have this horrible feeling that it might not go as planned. And I don't even know if the chair would fit through that screen window, and I might go into labor after having a fit of laughter watching the chair stuck in the window.
