Wednesday, February 08, 2017

Out in the Cold

I heard the bell ring as I was doing my evening chores. It was just after four o'clock and I was taking care of dishes, dancing around, paying very little attention to anything but the end of the workday. Snuggling my dogs a bit as I chased them about.

And the bell rings.

And I go to the porch to check and see it's packages. I expected it to be packages.

There are two doors between me and said packages. One door leads to the outdoor. I think I shut the inner door.

I have not shut the inner door.

When I open the outer door I realize I have not shut the inner door as I suddenly have two four month old puppies about to dive for the porch, so I did what comes naturally. I shut the outdoor. The outdoor pulls completely closed and locks immediately behind me.

Peaking over I actually go to see what the packages are before it dawns on me that I have just locked myself out of the house. It's 18F and I'm wearing jeans, a thin sweater and am barefoot on the porch. The wind is blowing, the temperature is dropping and the light is failing.

"Shit."

I immediately start to talk myself through it. What do I do, what do I do? Neighbors? Maybe, but if I lock myself out beyond the gate I'm really in trouble then, aren't I? I'm not wearing shoes. My feet start to get cold.

I think of the Chef, but that's two blocks away and he went to work with my flatmates this morning.

The wind picks up and my hair is caught in it. I think, I think.

I'm a smart woman. I check the windows, I know that is not going to work. Try to get in through the basement? I know that won't be effective.

Options?

Get out of the cold, I need to get out of the cold and then it hits me. The garage. Go do the garage. At least I'll be inside. It's unheated inside, but still inside. Inside is better then in the wind and I can wait for my flatmates to return.

Carefully I work my way through the yard to the back of the house, cold feet going numb on the cold ground, grass brittle and breaking off between my toes. I try the back door in desperation before getting to the garage.

I try the door and it's stuck.

"No! NO! Dammit!"

I force it a little, probably too much, I'm desperate and shivering and just want to get in out of the cold. Suddenly I feel something give and the door opens. I slam it quickly behind me and look around.

Flatmate's car, snowblower.

The car. I try the door and it opens and I say a small prayer to whatever goddess of fools is watching over me today. I get in and find a light jacket it and wrap it around my feet while I scavenge the garage with my eyes. Nothing. But...there is a tarp on the snowblower. Extra layer, is all I can think.
Once I can feel my toes I jump out, grab the tarp, jump back into the car and snuggle up to wait. I keep my legs pumping and moving the whole time, worried about falling asleep in the cold and waiting, hoping against hope my flatmates get back closer to five than six.

I got lucky and they pull in shortly after five.

"What the hell?"

"I locked myself out."

There was laughter, giggles, and a desperate last barefoot dash to the backdoor which decided to be just obstinate enough to freak us out before it opened. It felt good to be warm. The sudden desire for booze and Indian food swept over me as fast as the puppies running to thank the merry Bigs for returning.

"This was your fault." I told them, while loving them. The dogs didn't care.



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