Read Part 1 here!
Oh, you didn’t think the mattress story was over already, did you? Bless your little heart.*
So we have the mattress up the stairs, duct taped, and ready to be made in to a bed. A little backstory: I am addicted to TV. I had just returned from first a semester in Spain without any current TV (I could find illegal I mean… perfectly legal… movies on my computer) and then a few weeks living with my parents who also don’t have TV. Now that the bed issue was resolved I felt like we were finally moved in and I was excited to get on with my TV watching. Jon and Kate Plus 8 (RIP) was finale-ing that night and my new bedmate and I had been excited all day to watch it.
HOWEVER (here’s the clue that it is about to get interesting) we were also really tired and sweaty and grumpy from our battle with the boxspring (wait, I just realized I’ve been calling this the mattress saga since it happened 4 years ago and it wasn’t even with the mattress!) AND I had just turned 21 and definitely wanted some drinks to unwind. At this point I think it was around 7:45 and the show started at 8. We jumped in the car and drove the quarter mile to the store and I ran in for some wine coolers, cause we’re classy. I wish I could write “classy” in an accent so there isn’t a doubt that I’m being ironic. We get back to the house and it’s 8:56. Just enough time to plop down on the couch, right? Wrong.
Either we had not yet had to use our keys to get in yet being that we had just moved in or the copies of copies that our keys were wore down after 2 uses because neither of our keys worked. Yes, we were locked out. Locked out of our moderately cooler (this was late June) and significantly less muggy house. With the TV. At this point I wanted to just sprawl out on the couch on our porch (did I say classy already?) and cry. Or maybe go get something harder than wine coolers. But the football boys we were living with weren’t getting in to town for another few days. And there were a lot of mosquitoes out there!
Enter the semi broken pane on one of the windows. The semi broken pane became officially broken so that I could unlock the window and lift it up. The window was kind of tall and my friend is kind of short so I had to hoist her up through the window. Actually, full disclosure, we were both in our bras. Remember the broken pane part? That means broken glass. So we had to take off our shirts and lay them down on the windowsill to try to avoid the glass shards. Again – hoisting, no shirts. So in the end I guess it did end up being kind of like a Girls Gone Wild experience, huh?!
Someone else has to have a good lock out story, right? Did anyone have to remove articles of clothing during said lock out? NO I don’t mean like to pass the time I mean in order to get back in! Wait, not as a favor to someone who let you back in either. Keep it PG-13!
*People in the South say this a lot and it has a lot of different meanings. Few of them are nice or genuine meanings. Don’t shoot the messenger.