journal-05/02/00

05/02/00

Tonight I did something so unbelievably stupid, followed by a string of more unbelievably stupid actions...

When I got home tonight, I talked to my dad to confirm his flight and arrival time. Then I casually went down to the basement to grab the laundry that had been sitting in the dryer all afternoon. I come upstairs, not thinking about much of anything except the remaining things left to do before my dad gets here, and I turn the knob to enter my apartment.

Or, I try to turn the knob... only... it's locked.

All I have on me is my T-shirt, my not-lined nylon windpants, tennis shoes, and 4 quarters. I think, "Shit!" and proceed back into the basement to scrounge for various things to stick into the keyhole and try to open my door. After about 45 minutes of this, I realize it's pointless.

I walk to the end of the block (and woo-- yes it still gets chilly at night) and around the corner, pick up the payphone that's there hoping "411" will work. That payphone didn't accept it. I tried "0" and various other ways of ringing a person, all to no avail. Of course, this particular phone looked like a remnant from some war, after which it was dragged behind a Mack truck for several hundred miles. I was surprised it actually worked.

I then realize I'm going to have to walk the mile and a half to 7/11 where I can get my hands on a phone book. I'm hoping there's a 24-hour locksmith available for not too much money.

I make many phone calls and find the rate is going to be $80-125 which I didn't (don't, don't ever) have. I remember that I happen to have $80 in my wallet as spending money for when my dad is here. I try to call back the one place that had the cheapest rate of $80. They don't answer the phone the second (or fifteenth) time I call. I finally leave a message and they call me back, leaving a message on my voice mail (the payphone I was at didn't have the phone number on it anywhere). I then go back to my apartment (now it's even colder, especially in a T-shirt and windpants).

Once I get walking I forget that it's cold, because the only thing I'm thinking is who I can call to bail me out. And the answer is, no one. The only people who really give a shit about me, who I can call at 2am because I locked myself out of my apartment and I'm feeling sorry for myself are... my parents, who happen to live 1500 miles away.

Now I'm feeling really great. And all I want is to move back to Texas and live with my parents forever. Or something silly like that.

Before I left on the locksmith hunt the thought occurred to me that I could just break in. I forgot to mention that I tried to open every single window in my apartment but they were all too secure. I know how light my door is and I was just thinking "If I just pushed it hard enough the thing would just come right open." But I knew I couldn't do that, because, well... then I'd have to repair the damage (and what do I know about door frames?) or pay to have it done, and my roommate (and I imagine my landlord) wouldn't be too happy with me.

But you have to understand, the emotions got the best of me and I was so fucking frustrated with not being able to get into my apartment that I just suddenly started pushing against the door. I just sort of stopped thinking and started breaking into my apartment. Nothing fancy like they do in the movies-- no swift kick to send the door flailing open... just mildly shoving the door and then I heard the "Crack!" of the wood splitting and then my door was open.

All this the night before my dad comes into town... all this when I spent the whole morning scrubbing my apartment so it would look as nice as possible for my dad... all this when I had actually had a fairly decent night at work and I wasn't hating my job so much for once... At times tonight I've really felt like I'm having some sort of mental breakdown, like I'm just too stressed to care about my immediate actions anymore.

Other things like audibly sobbing while walking the streets of my town on the way back to my locked apartment, peeing outside in the dark because I couldn't hold it until I got to a public restroom, these are things I don't like to admit. Just part of the "string of stupid actions" I suppose.

And I really do feel stupid. But what if I hadn't broken in?

*sigh*

I need sleep. And I'm not really going to get any tonight, either...

Now I'm debating what to tell my landlord and my roommate. Should I make up a story? Should I say that somebody broke in but didn't steal anything? How ridiculous is that? I know that the previous roommate before me was a little strange, so that might account for it, but...

Maybe I should just tell the truth.

I could say I tripped when I was bringing my laundry up from the basement and I fell into the door. Frankly, that would be a believable story just because it really didn't take that much force...

(You should see the door frame... it's kind of split diagonally. Wood working expert anyone?)

Perhaps I'm making light of the situation, or maybe I'm trying to justify my actions, or perhaps at this point I'm just trying to make myself believe that I'm not crazy.

Maybe it's a little of all three...

Whatever the case, I need to get to sleep. I've got a busy and fun weekend ahead of me...

Am I a horrible person?