So, the past few days I have been wondering what topic I would consider for my next post. Even this morning as I was rallying to get out of bed, I did not seem to have many ideas.
Fortunately, my own actions have come to my rescue...
As I prepare for the visit from my father here in a couple of weeks, I have been doing some tidying up around the flat. You might recall I had a little list of tasks that I wanted to get done at the beginning of Spring, and a thorough hoovering and mopping was certainly on the to-do list. During my breaks from work during this morning, I attacked the dust bunnies hiding in the various corners of the house (as well as under the bed and sofa). I did not stop with the vacuuming, but continued on by changing out the mop head and took care of the bathroom floor, quite impressively, I might add.
I was really feeling productive by midday, managing not only the household chores but also the routine duties of my job. It finally stopped raining just around 13h, and I rushed off to the bank and then on to pick up the dry cleaning, keeping one eye on the darkening skies above. At the cleaners, I smiled sheepishly as the girl brought all 10 items to me: 3 coats and 7 bulky sweaters. She struggled to carry everything over to me at the counter, and I made a note to myself that in future I would try not to schlep so many things to the cleaners at once.
5 minutes later, I was revising my mental note (along with swearing and sweating profusely) as I awkwardly walked across most of Bornheim with everything. Indeed, it was all really heavy. Why the hell did I think it such a good idea to take so many articles at once? Furthermore, I wondered if any of the five dry cleaners that are a LOT closer to my house do a better job, just so I don't have to show the entire neighborhood my entire winter apparel.
Once I got home, I hung everything back up in the closet and checked that task off the list.
A couple of short conference calls later, I finished my last coffee of the day, then decided I would put my doormat back outside my front door. During winter, I usually keep it just inside the front door for any shoes and boots that have picked icy gunk. That way, I wouldn't track it all the way through the flat.
Earlier in the morning I had opened up all the windows in the apartment, and with the balcony door open, the cross breeze was absolutely brilliant. I could almost smell the smoky fugg from my kitchen just whisking away into thin air.
So, when I laid the mat down in front of my door, I was feeling quite accomplished, right up until that moment (which was really in about 3 seconds) when my front door slammed in my face.
This now marks the second time that this exact same thing has happened to me.
(check out the post from March 2010 entitled "Parental Approval Rating - High!")
Not surprisingly, I said what normally comes to mind when something like this happens.
"Oh, fuck."
Of course my keys and my phone were sitting safely inside: just a locked door keeping us apart.
Once again, I trooped over to the pub, hoping to catch my friend (the owner) and see about borrowing his ladder. As I approached the door, it opened and one of the other tenants was just coming outside.
"Hi, do you know if Ray is around?"
"Nope. He is in the Dominican Republic and won't be back until next week."
Yikes.
After brief consideration, I rang the doorbell to see if one of the other guys was around, and I was relieved when Marc answered. Marc is also a friend who works at the pub and lives in one of the small apartments upstairs.
Marc came downstairs and after a quick greeting, I asked him if he was busy and would he mind not only helping to bring the extension ladder over, but could he also help hold the ladder so that I wouldn't fall and break my legs as I climbed up to my balcony.
Just like I did with my father 8 years ago, Marc and I assembled the extensions and struggled to steady the ladder against my balcony railing.
Marc is quite a bit shorter than I am (and lighter), and when he suggested that perhaps it would be better if he climbed up, I almost hugged him. It is not that I am afraid of heights, but I am just saying...
A minute later, Marc clambered over the railing and walked through the flat to my front door.
I was greatly relieved, only to realize that he was just about to exit my flat without removing the key from the door, which would have put us back where we started.
"Wait, don't let the door shut!" I exclaimed, and we both chuckled as I removed the keys from the door and stuck them in my pocket.
Back downstairs to make the ladder short again, and then I thanked Marc profusely as he carried the ladder back across the street.
It's funny. Only yesterday I had sort of reminded myself to be very careful when opening the front door so as to avoid this exact thing from happening.
Sigh. And giggle. What more can I do?
This probably means that sometime in the coming days I will inadvertently and inexplicably spray myself in the eye with an aerosol cleaner.
Thank goodness I can amuse myself by being such a goofball.
See you out there.
bryan
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