A really bad case of the Mondays

I had to wait a day to write about it – it was that traumatizing for me.

Yesterday morning, I woke up at my usual time, and staggered out the front door to walk Charlie. I’m always half-asleep on his morning walks, and usually very grumpy. Waking up has never been easy for me, except if, say, I’ve got to catch a flight to the Yucatan, or am getting married. Early-morning agony has been with me since I was a very young child and my chirpy morning-people parents would rouse me from bed, and shake their heads at me as I fell asleep again on the living room couch or the kitchen table.

Trust me people, I would love to be a morning person. I would love to wake up and feel awake.

Anyway, it’s under this mental fog each day that I walk my dog, who, like most canines, is very much excited to greet each day, even if his days are all pretty much the same. But not yesterday…I woke up, got dressed, leashed Charlie, opened the apartment door and closed it behind us.

Instantly I knew I had forgotten my keys. I was locked out.

“Shit,” I uttered, repeating it numerous times under my breath. I had nothing on me except some clothes, and a bag for Charlie’s waste. Brendan had long left for work.

I walked downstairs, and tried buzzing the super’s apartment, over and over. No answer. I’d have to seek help elsewhere. I grabbed our newspaper, and wedged it in the building’s front door, so it wouldn’t lock on me. I walked to the nearest payphone and tried to call Brendan collect. Didn’t work. I tried recalling my credit card from memory to bill it to a credit card. The voice asked for me security code. Damn! What was it? AGH! So I tried calling my parents collect. Didn’t work. And that was the extent of my phone numbers I knew from memory.

Now I was in a panic, and desperate, so I went inside a bodega, holding Charlie in one hand (it was crowded and I didn’t also need my now-shivering dog to be trampled) and begged to use their phone. The clerk kindly handed me the store’s phone, but it wouldn’t accept Brendan’s long-distance number. So then I had to beg to use her personal cell phone. She relented and handed it over. I frantically called Brendan, and asked him to come home to let me in. Then I had to hang up, because I couldn’t endlessly use her phone.

I went back to the apartment and waited. For at least an hour. I waited in the stairwell, with Charlie. I waited in the basement. I went up on the roof. Jesus, where was Brendan? I buzzed the super at least 10 times. Then, I heard my cell phone ringing and knew Brendan was trying to tell me something. Again desperate, I knocked on a neighbor’s door, red-faced, and explained my situation, and asked to use this cell phone so I could again call Brendan, who explained a car was downstairs, sent from his office, and the driver had my keys.

Thank god. Brendan to the rescue. My morning from hell was over. I wish I could confidently say I won’t ever forget my keys again, but that’d be like saying I’m going to be a morning person from now on.

12 thoughts on “A really bad case of the Mondays

  1. MMalan says:

    I’m going to get to work right away on a collar for Charlie that will have a slot for storing an extra key… He will become ur personal rescue dog.

    (On the bright side, I began reading this thinking you were gonna say you stumbled out of the building two-thirds asleep and someone attacked you.)

  2. joynmsu says:

    Thanks. What I need is a secret hiding place outside of the apartment, since I have ALSO forgotten my keys on the way to work (but fortunately had my cellphone and purse and credit cards and I was fully dressed and all that. ).

    But it’s not easy when you live in an apartment building with prying eyes all over the place.

  3. Dora says:

    You know I really can’t over the mindset people have out here in regards to helping someone who is obviously at a loss. People actually make you feel bad for needing their help. I’ve experienced this sort of thing way too often. I would gladly let someone use my daytime minutes in that situation. Whats five minutes, if even that? It makes me miss the midwest sometimes…

  4. joynmsu says:

    Well, everyone was nice to me — it’s just awkward because I can’t stand in a crowded bodega using the clerk’s cellphone for a limitless amount of time — or ask to receive calls on her phone. So, the proper and polite thing to do is use it quickly, convey the message, and hope for the best. It’s up the clerk to extend more help, I think.

  5. Dora says:

    Yeah, I hear ya. I just think people assume all too often that they are going to get taken advantage of even when you politely ask for help. That’s NYC for ya.

  6. Charlie's Real Father says:

    You know, I am not a morning person either… And I remember you not being one either, cuz I have some memory of your face in the morning, and you look like you’re contemplating a killing spree.

    Oh, by the way, when I FINALLY come visit you, I’m going to re-establish ownership of Charlie and bring him back to Texas where he belongs.

  7. Charlie's Real Father says:

    Watch me.

    Upon his return, I will take him to some fancy Dallas doggie salon, get his nails done, his hair tied in bows and his bangs done up and Aqua-Netted as high as possible.

    He will also bark with a Southern accent.

    *getting on phone, dialing melodramatically, making appointment*

  8. Concetta says:

    Oh my gord that’s AWFUL! Poor Joy! You handled it so well. I would have broken down sobbing on the side walk, beat on windows and tried to climb up my balcony…for the love of sweet jesus!!! Someone help me!

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