Did someone curse me? And if so, could your possibly un-curse me? I have chocolate.
I'm wondering about the curse because ever since the engine in my PT Cruiser became sick so we had to buy a new car, it seems that one crazy thing has been happening after another.
For instance, on Friday I went to zip up my coat. And the zipper fell off into my palm.
Thank goodness I bought another jacket on sale. I bought this gorgeous black wool peacoat when it went down to $49. I love peacoats. But I still loved that other jacket. It had been with me for three years and it was a lovely blue color. *Sniffs*
Anyhow, on Saturday I was doing the dishes because it seems like they just multiply when I'm not watching. I mean, how did FOUR cups get into the sink? I don't recall using four cups. While I was busy pondering this, the kids were upstairs playing.
After I did the dishes I went upstairs to make sure the kids weren't attacking each other. They weren't. I was nearly stunned to see them quietly flipping through books in Tommy's room. I wanted to run and grab the camera and take a picture of the occasion. I mean, both of my kids? Being QUIET?
But when I turned head downstairs to get the camera, I realized that my bedroom door was closed. Natalie enjoys opening and closing doors. Especially when she's upset. Then she'll bang them shut and I'll have to remind her that we don't do things like that.
I went to OPEN my bedroom door...
...and I couldn't. Because it was locked. Natalie must've switched the lock and then shut the door.
I didn't worry because my son had done this in our downstairs bathroom. In that case he had actually locked himself in and was flipping out.
"HELP! HELP ME! I CAN'T BREATHE!" he screamed as I frantically searched for something to pick the lock open with.
Did I mention that my kids are overly dramatic?
I managed to find a paper clip and I just unwound it so it was straight. Then I went to open the door. (And I have to say, when I'm NOT looking for a paper clip I can find them everywhere. But when I really need a paper clip, I couldn't find one anywhere! It's a paper clip conspiracy, I tell you.)
It took me a few minutes but I managed to get it open. Tommy rushed out into my arms and was all, "I thought I was going to DIE in the bathroom!"
Anyhow, my point in telling that story is that I assumed that getting the bedroom lock open wouldn't be a problem.
I got a paper clip again (after searching for one for, oh, about five minutes even though I had come across FOUR a few days earlier), unwound it and then went to work.
But I don't know what is UP with the upstairs lock because it would not open. And I tend to start crying when I can't figure something out so I started my blubbering as I continued to try to get the door to open.
I tried to open it for over an hour. I was freaking out and I even called Tom, who is away on TDY in Texas until June, to see if he had any tips.
"I don't know what to do," he said simply.
"Some help you are!" I basically shrieked and then hung up.
Fine, I can sort of see where the kids get their dramatics from.
But I couldn't HELP it. I needed to get in my room. The Easter Bunny gifts were in there. My BED was in there. My clean UNDERWEAR was in there. Of course I had just done the laundry so I had nothing in the laundry room.
Since I live on base housing I was able to call housing maitenance. It's off hours so there aren't many workers over the weekend. I knew this.
I was put on hold for awhile and was forced to listen to Muzak.
Then a guy came on and when I told him the story he LAUGHED at me and then went,
"I don't know what to do with those doors."
?????????
Okay. So he works for BASE HOUSING and he doesn't know what to do?
I assumed that these workers were TRAINED to know these things.
"Well, someone needs to help me because the Easter Bunny presents are in there," I said sternly.
"I can try to get out today. No promises," was the reply. Apparently he didn't comprehend how important it was for me to get into the room. My son, after all, was excited over the prospect of the Easter Bunny coming. Every few minutes he'd be all, "I wonder what the Easter Bunny is going to bring me?" I did not want to have to explain to Tommy that the Easter Bunny wasn't coming that night after all.
So I kept trying to open the door and it was not working. I even slammed my body into it.
Then I tried a karate move like they do in the movies. I mean, aren't maritial artists always flying through the air and knocking off knobs?
So I thought I'd do the same thing. Instead I now have a foot that is throbbing with pain and decorated with a purple bruise.
Oh, and a crack through the door:
I honestly didn't know what to do.
A swirl of thoughts circulated through my head:
I need to get in there. Otherwise I'm going to have to continue to re-wash my undies and then what will I wear when I'm waiting for them?? I need to set a freaking example for my kids and going commando doesn't seem like a motherly thing to do.
I gave up on the paper clip and tried a hangar.
That didn't work.
So I ran outside and found a skinny stick.
That didn't work.
I went back to the paper clip.
That didn't work.
In the middle of all this I turned into Nancy Kerrigan and started to mutter, "Whyyyy? Whyyy?" as I fiddled around with the stubborn lock.
Don't worry, my kids weren't privy to my antics. They were watching television.
I pretended that everything was perfect, that Mommy was just having a little bit of fun with the door.
I eventually had to admit defeat though. Natalie's naptime was approaching and I had promised Tommy that we'd dye some eggs.
So after giving the door a final angry kick, I put my daughter down for her nap and then started to dye some eggs with Tommy:
Doesn't he looked thrilled? I swear, he had a lot of fun. And do you see that blue arrow? It's pointing to a picture of Sarah Jessica Parker screaming. It made me laugh.
"I have blue fingers! Am I going to get sick?" Tommy asked me seriously.
After we finished dyeing the eggs, I was determined to get the door to open.
I have a problem where I can't let things go.
Like, when I was in dyeing the eggs I kept thinking about how my bedroom door was LOCKED and that I couldn't GET IN THERE.
I found an old cheap keychain ring and unwound that and started to mess around in the knob again.
It took me about a half hour but finally I heard a click and guess what?
The door opened!
Yes!
Clean underwear!
And better yet, this meant that the Easter Bunny would be coming!
In the middle of doing my happy dance--yes, I truly do happy dances, is that not normal??--the doorbell rang.
And guess who it was?
Yup.
Housing maitenance.
Of course.
I explained to the guy that I had JUST opened the door and he went, "Do you know about the release button?"
Huh?
Release button?
What release button?
I guess my baffled expression told him that no, I had no idea what release button he was talking about and hello, if I HAD known about it, would I have called him in a frenzy??
So I let him come in and show me. Because I can almost guarantee that Natalie will lock the door again. It's just the kind of child she is.
As we headed up the stairs, I realized that the guy's eyes had flicked over to my hand in confusion.
Why?
Because they looked like this:
I felt compelled to tell the guy, "Oh, I dyed some easter eggs with my son. I'm not a witch or anything." I gave a little laugh an expected the guy to join me. Instead he just stared at me.
I should have just kept my mouth shut but I'm apparently socially awkward and don't know when to keep quiet.
We just walked up the stairs in silence because I guess the guy was pretending like I had never mentioned my disgusting fingers.
"I had to call up a buddy to tell me what to do," the guy finally spoke as we approached the door.
Then he showed me this tiny button that I can push in and the knob will come off.
I really should have Yahooed it or something.
Oh well.
I was just thrilled that I was able to get into my room.
After the guy left, I rewarded myself with an extra chocolate bunny that I had picked up for stressful moments.
Because clearly, that was a stressful moment.
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