So it's been raining in
Seattle. The
forecast for this weekend according to weather.com is Saturday 80% chance of rain, Sunday 100% chance of rain. So tonight, I was sitting on my couch, thinking about how I really should get up and out and moving so I don't sink even further into my SAD slump when the phone rang. It was my friend Katy calling inviting me over for an impromptu dinner of risotto. The great part about single girlfriends is that we all cook for one and so occasionally you are the benefactor of someone else simply making too much food for one.
I took this as an opportunity to not only leave the house but get some decent food that I didn't cook myself. So I walked the mile or so to Katy's place had some risotto and good conversation and then headed home. I stopped at my neighborhood grocery for an US weekly, and my neighborhood video store and was headed home to a night of movies around 10pm when I realized that my walk was a little too quiet. What my
ipod had previously been disguising, was that the
familiar clink of my keys jangling in my coat pocket wasn't there.
I panicked, dropped my bags, and patted all my pockets, twice, three times. Damn! Wait! My spare keys are safely housed in my youngest sister's apartment..... My youngest sister who is currently in Minneapolis. Damn! My youngest sister who's spare keys are safely housed in MY apartment. Damn! I called my landlord, no answer, and I already knew she'd be out of town, she's always out of town, especially around holidays. There was only one thing left to do. I called a locksmith.
I don't know why, but I had the
delusion that a locksmith would come to your house at a moment's notice, let you into your locked apartment, and only charge you $50. Based on this
delusion, I called whichever one would come the fastest and never thought to ask the price. 30 minutes and half of my recently purchased US weekly later, he arrived. The first thing he said was "I hate these old locks." I had a growing sense of dread. Twenty minutes of lock jiggling later, he said, "I have to drill it out." It was 11pm, in my quiet apartment building, my neighbors were going to hate me.
I asked how much would it cost, and this is when I got my first shock. "Well, it's $40 for the service call and $105 to open the door so you've already paid that..." The blood rushed from my head. Are you serious?!!! I thought. but said "oh....." and then "well how much more to get inside?" "$100?" he guessed.
At this point it was between that and a walk down a wet rainy hill to my friend's place to sleep, only to potentially repeat it all again the next say so I said "
OK." The guy felt bad for me, and once inside he complimented my cat, his way of trying to boost my spirits. And when all was said and done he only charged me $10 for the labor. I think/hope that was his way of saying, "I'm sorry we're ripping you off" because the total bill came to $271.
So much for that sunny weekend get away I thought I had the $$ for. How much longer until summer?
