Email: Jessica -at- TootallforItaly.com
Locked Out
Yes, there has been a serious lack of posting lately. I had a crazy month and had to fly back to the USA. More on that in the posts to come. As for this post, I got locked out of my apartment last night. It all started when I noticed we were out of milk, again. Milk has to be at the top of my list of things I find really annoying about living in Italy. The size is just ridiculous. One liter? I go through that in a day by myself. Bring on the gallons! I feel like the carton is half gone after one bowl of cereal. I NEED milk. Anyways, I decided to pop down to the bakery under our apartment to buy a few liters. I told D to buzz me in so I didn’t need to take my purse and keys. Simple right? Be back in 3 minutes right? So I buy the milk and ring our buzzer. Nothing. Ring it again. Nothing. Go utterly insane and press the button 60 times in a row while uttering profanities. Still NOTHING. At this point I am being to feel totally fucked. No keys, no cell phone, and a useless buzzer that is apparently on holiday like the rest of the country. Keep in mind there is no window to climb (or yell) into. There is a big, strong security door, a lobby, and 4 flights of stairs separating me and the milk from the air-conditioned apartment. I scan the list of our neighbors on our buzzer. No dice. Everyone is either a doctor or lawyer, all of whom are probably on some island tanning somewhere until September. I press the buzzer 55 more times. The milk is getting warmer. Nothing. I dig in my pocket for change and begin to try to remember where the nearest payphone is. But then I realize I don’t even know D’s cell phone number. GRRR! By this time 35 minutes have passed and I began to hate D. What husband doesn’t come look for their wife after 15 minutes? I bet he is playing the Wii and is happy I am gone. No one there to nag him and bitch and moan. Oh god, his life is so much better with me locked out! No wonder he hasn’t come to rescue me! I sit down and sulk and blame everyone I can think of for my predicament. Stupid condo people, dumb buzzer company, damn husband for being glad I was kidnapped. I stand up five minutes later and hit the buzzer again angrily. After the 20th consecutive buzz the security door opens. I go upstairs and D asks where I’ve been. I scream “downstairs dying in the heat, where have YOU been???”
Turns out he was getting his shoes on to come find me, thinking that the bakery must have run out of milk and I probably went to the other store.
I forgave him, but it’s the last time I go to the store ever again. Without bringing my keys and cell phone that is.
Posted: July 19th, 2009 under Uncategorized.
Comments
Comment from Jamie Price
July 20, 2009 at 7:12 pm
We are glad that you are back blogging…..Between me, Sean and Ryan we look everyday….miss and luv ya tons.
Comment from Brian
July 22, 2009 at 12:41 pm
My Mom once forgot to pick me up from school. As she was preparing dinner and wondering why I wasn’t coming to the table when she called, she thought to herself, “Oh yeah…..”
Brian´s last blog ..Before you arrive… [7] 
Comment from kat
August 30, 2009 at 9:04 am
I totally identify with this, although most times there isn’t even anyone home when I lock myself out. Once I ran out and left the doors open, only to find they shut from the wind, had no one to call, and then my neighbors threatened to call the police on me because I thought I was trying to break into my own house. They assumed this because I wasn’t Greek.
Another thing you said was how you didn’t know D’s number. I hear you. We get used to using names and phone memories to store our stuff, and pretty soon we don’t even know our own number!
I’m glad you got back in, even if the milk was a little warm by then
kat´s last blog ..Athens afire: Cement and sea, ash and earth
Comment from Bluefish
July 20, 2009 at 6:38 am
Hey, glad you’re back with blogging. The same situation happened to me once-as I was closing the door my key chain got stuck in the door. I couldn’t leave my keys at the door so I kept ringing the door bell. My father who was just in the living room never opened the damn door. I called my mother bitching…almost in tears then rang the doorbell some more. I was even pounding the door with no result. In the end I realized that I could unhook my keys from the neck thingy. I was quite stupid.
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