I looked at my keys on the chair as I went over to the closet to get some dryer sheets, opened the door and watched Zeke the Cat (my charge for the week while my brother and his wife are on vacation) carefully to make sure he didn't dart out. With a dryer sheet in each hand, I thought to myself how clever it is that they have set the door closing arm thing so that the door closes slowly for that last few inches to give you a few more seconds in case you forget your keys. Yep, I thought, with a dryer sheet in each hand, that's a really good idea.*
schuwaaaclick. The door closed. But I still stared at it. My hands reflexively clenched. I looked down and saw that I did not have my keys in either. Fuck.
I considered going up and asking the doorman to call the maintenance guy to let me in, but I was worried about them seeing Zeke, as there are no pets allowed in my building, and there's no small print about just having them for a week.
An old friend of many of ours, Beth, the RA for Commonwealth 4th during the 96-97 school year, just so happens to live in my building. It was eerie the first time I saw her there: imagine moving out on your own and still living with your RA. I went up to her apartment to use the phone. She wasn't home, but luckily a friend of hers was staying there for the week.
To make short on the boring part of this story: I called Mickey (he still has my spare keys) a dozen times with no answer. I figured he was on World of Warcraft, so I emailed HM to ask if she saw him there to have him call me. I had a feeling though, that if HM were in fact on World of Warcraft, she wouldn't be seeing my email for a while.
Called what I thought was Mr. & Mrs. Pants via anywho hoping they might for some reason have Mickey's new land line number, and a girl who sounded vaguely Australian answered. "Leanne?" I asked. "Yeah." "Hey, it's Mej." "Who is this." "It's Mej." "uh, you have the wrong number."
Dumbfuck. If I have the wrong number, don't say "yes" when I ask if you're Leanne.
I called Rob and Leanne next, and they didn't have the number, but gave me Garth's number in case maybe he had it. He didn't, but he confirmed my suspicions that Mickey was in fact playing World of Warcraft, and was playing with him. Garth messaged Mickey to call me, he did, came to let me in, and we got milkshakes.
The moral of this story is: If my friends weren't all such gigantic nerds, I would had to have risked a petsitting bust in order to make up for my own dumbass mistakes. Thank you, World of Warcraft.
*Later when I told Mickey the dryer sheet story, he said it were as though 20% of my brain was trying to tell me something but the rest of it just wasn't getting the message and gave up. "I tried my best guys, but I couldn't get it out right! Come ON! The hints were all there!"