'cause I'm MacGuyver, that's why

I'm going to start off this story by admitting that yes, you're right: if I were not 100% completely lackadaisical about home repair, this would have never happened; however, I'm feeling kind of empowered here, so shutup, you.

About 7 months ago while staying with us, our friend Carly got stuck in our guest bathroom for several hours. The door lock mechanism broke and she couldn't get the door open. From what I understand, they basically had to take the door off its hinges to free her. I feel horribly guilty about this because apparently, I was home at the time and never heard her yelling to be let out (I was asleep). I know that's a story in and of itself, but I only want to mention it briefly so that you know that this door has a history. In normal people's homes when something like this happens, they take a quick trip to Lowes or Home Despot and they make their repairs and all is right in the world. In Sam and Lee's home, when something breaks, we pull out the duct tape and hope to God nothing else bad happens before Roy can come over to fix it. So, it shouldn't shock you to learn that seven months have passed and we had not repaired the door mechanism on the guest bathroom. Until tonight at 8:27pm, this had not been a problem.

At 8:27pm, I entered the bathroom carrying Roxy (mother to the booglies) in order to cut out one last remaining piece of cough drop stuck on her ear. I took her into the bathroom so that I could conduct this little operation without the help of the other six dogs drooling, jumping and otherwise being pains in my ass as they normally can be. I'm carrying the dog and a pair of tweezers, so I had to kick the door closed with my foot. As soon as I did it, I heard the door click and I froze. Holy shit. It's not supposed to CLICK. There is a piece of duct tape there that is supposed to KEEP IT FROM CLICKING. ohgodohgodohgod. I slowly put the dog down, turned around and gently tried to turn the door handle. Nothing. shitshitshitshitshit!! I'm stuck.

I'm sure you're thinking: oh well, Sam will come and let her out and normally, this would be true. But Sam was not home. Not only was Sam NOT home, Sam was at work and not due to be off work for another 4 hours after which he had made plans to go out with some friends visiting from out of town and would actually not be home until sometime around 3am, IF I'm lucky. So, the earliest, I can expect to be freed from the bathroom is somewhere around 8 hours from now. ohgodohgodohgod.

Now, I am not really a claustrophobic person. I have a teensy issue with situations where I feel enclosed and I have no control over my surroundings. Scuba diving, for example, is not the sport for me. Freaks me the hell out. Normally, I have no problem being in our bathroom. It's not spacious, but it's hardly a water closet. I can deal with being our bathroom... until you lock me in there with no way out for 8 hours and there's a lactating dog taking up half my oxygen. Wait a minute, LACTATING DOG!!! oh god, the BOOGLIES!! They have to nurse every 2-3 hours. If we're stuck here til Sam gets home at whatever hour of the early morning he gets home, what's going to happen to the booglies??? Are they gonna DIE ALONE WITHOUT THEIR MOTHER??? Ok. I might have had a slight little breakdown at that point. I didn't cry, but there was some possible hyperventilating and beating on the back of the door til my hands were swollen. And screaming (just a little).

Then I took a deep breath and decided that it is up to me to remedy this situation. There are booglies at stake for crissakes--calm the f*#$ down. I close my eyes and I remember the thing about the hinges and I think AHA! I can do this! So, I take the bolts out of the hinges (one of them I had to hammer with the toilet brush and my hairdryer to get it loose, but it came loose by god). Hinges: gone. But then, the door wouldn't come off. Not even when I slammed my body against it, possibly cracking my shoulder. Shit! What's going on here? The frigging thingie that locks the door is STUCK in the little hole thingie in the wall and I can't get it OUT. ohgodohgodohgod. What do I do??

I start emptying out the medicine cabinet looking for something, anything that I can use. I spot my tiny little tweezers. I bent them outwards and used them to unscrew the bolts on the door handle, pulled that out and then used Sam's tongue brush to turn the mechanism, opening the door and freeing me and Roxy. Booglies: saved. Fingernails, not so much. Total time spent encased in the hellish confines of my definitely way too small bathroom: 36 minutes. BooYAH.

true story, yall. check out the tools of my escape (and my swollen hands: ouch, yo). If my hands didn't hurt so bad and I hadn't possibly broken my rotator cuff, I'd totally be patting myself on the back right now.



limps off to bed.