I had put Tricky down for his nap and was so tired (though it was only 9.30am) that I thought I'd try to have one too. But then the postman came on his little bike and the allure of a man in high vis gear was just too much for me, so I went to empty the letterbox. At that point a whisper of a breeze decided to come and slam my door. Brilliant.
I was outside. Tricky was inside. On top of the unbrushed hair and bags under my eyes, I had no keys (duh), no phone, no shoes, NO BRA and was still in my PJs. What a sight.
Tina had only just told me to put a bra on but I didn't listen. I've learned my lesson.
I looked up and down the street - the elderly lady two houses up was watering a few plants in her front garden. I hurredly walked up to her, holding the junk mail and letters across my bra-less boobs and by the time I had gotten to her the tears had started.
"I've locked myself out of the house and my baby is inside! Alone!"
Why did I add "Alone!"?. It was pretty bloody obvious from my tears and choking voice that he was in there by himself.
Mrs Neighbour took me inside her immaculate home whilst asking me to excuse the mess, then sat me in front of their phone. I went blank. What was Map Guy's number?! I always just hit his name in my phone, I never dial his number.
I started to dial Aunty Penny's number (the first mobile phone number I ever learned so it has stuck with me all these years) but it hadn't even connected yet when I had a sudden flash of brilliance and remembered. Hurrah!
His voice sounded so mature and commanding because he answered using his 'work voice'. And then there was my voice. All meek and squeaky like a mouse; "I've locked myself out *sob sob*. Tricky's inside *sniff sniff* Can you come home?"
It would be about 25 minutes til he would be home so Mr Neighbour walked me home, insisting that he would try his own house keys in our Fort Knox-worthy front door. Mrs Neighbour just rolled her eyes and wished me luck.
Not surprisingly his keys didn't work, but I wanted to hug him for even trying. He made sure I was OK and returned home to Mrs Neighbour, to no doubt talk about how strange it was to see a crying, bra-less woman standing on their doorstop in PJs.
Map Guy rolled up, a knight in
I went and got these for my neighbours, it's so nice to know that there are kind people who will take pity on a girl in her jammies.
Have you locked yourself out?
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