A Fool of Myself

Preconceived notions are the locks on the door to wisdom.

At the last Springfield Bloggers’ Association meeting, it was decided that I should write about the adventures in loft living. In case you don’t know me personally but have been following this blog a long time, we sold our house in June and moved into a loft in downtown Springfield in July. That’s a whole other sordid blog post.

But we’re here, living the dream, now. We love it.

We live on the second floor and the building’s laundry room is on the first floor. And call me a bad mother if you like, but I frequently do the laundry while E is taking a nap, safe and sound in his crib. I always lock the door* behind me even though I’m one floor and 45 seconds away from him.

Well, Monday was an off day. I had a long run on Sunday, another medium run Monday morning, and I was tired. So after I put E down for Nap #1, I started the laundry downstairs and laid down to take a nap of my own. Who cares that it was 10:30 in the morning.

E woke me up after about an hour, but he didn’t sound unhappy, so I decided to quickly run downstairs and move the laundry from the washer to the dryer while I still had a captive baby. I was not completely awake, and on my way out the door, I grabbed my coin purse full of quarters but missed my keys that were beside it.

I wasn’t two steps away from my closed apartment door when I said to myself, “You just locked yourself out of your apartment. With your child inside. Without your cell phone. Awesome.” And sure enough, the door was locked.

Thankfully, my across-the-hall neighbor Josh was home, and with much embarrassment, I knocked on his door, explained my situation, and asked to use his phone. I called Chris because his is the only number I have memorized, but he didn’t answer because he doesn’t answer phone calls from numbers he doesn’t recognize. And I called the building manager’s cell, but I got his voicemail.

In the meantime, Josh was attempting to finagle the lock with a credit card, and by golly, the guy managed to unlock the door! I could have kissed him! I didn’t. I promised him cookies instead. I thank him profusely. I cannot tell you how relieved that this mistake of mine was no worse than it was.

Back in the apartment, E is no worse for wear. He’s just unhappy that it took me an extra five minutes to rescue him from his crib after his nap. And that was yesterday’s adventure in loft living!

* Our front door has two locks. A regular lock and a deadbolt. I use the regular lock when I’m doing laundry.

“Preconceived notions are the locks on the door to wisdom.” — Merry Browne