I was locked out of my house today. For about of 15 minutes.
My front door lock has always been cranky but it decided to test my limits by refusing to unlock altogether today. The icing on the cake came when I couldn't get my landlord on his cell phone.
I had just returned from attending an opening of a cafe galleria with a friend. The bright sunlight that saw my departure earlier today had waned and temperature was dropping below zero in anticipation of dusk.
When my key wouldn't turn, I felt the the usual mounting of irritation in my guts. When my fingers began to go numb and started pulsing, I began to panic. None of my housemates were home, it was getting cold and dark and I hadn't done my Asr prayer.
After trying for a whole ten minutes, I finally decided to call my landlords. It was Sunday evening and even though Paul and Anna have been indescribably nice to me, I can't help imagining how I would be ruining their Sunday evening with this single call.
I was spared the discomfort of inconveniencing my landlords when my call was picked up by their voice mail. Have you heard of how the final try is always the one that yields success? Well, the same applies to random acts of kindness.
Just as I was leaving a voice message, my neighbour across the street came and asked if I needed some help. He'd noticed that I was at the door when he came home and saw that I was still there ten minutes later. (this observation somewhat implies that he might have been watching me, which opens up a host of other possible scenarios but, what the heck. I need help with the door).
At this point I was near tears on account of the cold and, by consequences, my throbbing fingers, especially my right thumb. He kindly asked for my keys, inquiring as to whether or not I was trying the right one. He proceeded to try the lock. After several tries, voila!, the key turned. I was so grateful that all I was able to say was 'Thank you SOOO much', a phrase which I proceeded to repeat five or six times as he quickly descended the front porch and returned to his house (almost seemingly desperate to get away, now that I think of it. Nevermind).
Now I'm trying to decide what I should bake to send over to my kind neighbours as a token of thanks. Somehow the gravity of the situation seems to have abated. I should hurry up and decide before I completely forget how miserable I was when the old man came to my rescue.
I think some banana bread would be nice.
My front door lock has always been cranky but it decided to test my limits by refusing to unlock altogether today. The icing on the cake came when I couldn't get my landlord on his cell phone.
I had just returned from attending an opening of a cafe galleria with a friend. The bright sunlight that saw my departure earlier today had waned and temperature was dropping below zero in anticipation of dusk.
When my key wouldn't turn, I felt the the usual mounting of irritation in my guts. When my fingers began to go numb and started pulsing, I began to panic. None of my housemates were home, it was getting cold and dark and I hadn't done my Asr prayer.
After trying for a whole ten minutes, I finally decided to call my landlords. It was Sunday evening and even though Paul and Anna have been indescribably nice to me, I can't help imagining how I would be ruining their Sunday evening with this single call.
I was spared the discomfort of inconveniencing my landlords when my call was picked up by their voice mail. Have you heard of how the final try is always the one that yields success? Well, the same applies to random acts of kindness.
Just as I was leaving a voice message, my neighbour across the street came and asked if I needed some help. He'd noticed that I was at the door when he came home and saw that I was still there ten minutes later. (this observation somewhat implies that he might have been watching me, which opens up a host of other possible scenarios but, what the heck. I need help with the door).
At this point I was near tears on account of the cold and, by consequences, my throbbing fingers, especially my right thumb. He kindly asked for my keys, inquiring as to whether or not I was trying the right one. He proceeded to try the lock. After several tries, voila!, the key turned. I was so grateful that all I was able to say was 'Thank you SOOO much', a phrase which I proceeded to repeat five or six times as he quickly descended the front porch and returned to his house (almost seemingly desperate to get away, now that I think of it. Nevermind).
Now I'm trying to decide what I should bake to send over to my kind neighbours as a token of thanks. Somehow the gravity of the situation seems to have abated. I should hurry up and decide before I completely forget how miserable I was when the old man came to my rescue.
I think some banana bread would be nice.
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