A good case for getting a deadbolt lock
Something very awkward happened to me yesterday. I came home from work and immediately had to start getting ready for the Glee Live concert in Indy. So I peeled off my clothes and went into the bathroom to take a shower. It was at that moment that I heard someone knocking (more like banging) on our front door. Standing there in the nude, I thought, “Tough luck, buddy. Come back later,” and proceeded to get into the shower.
I heard knocking on the door again, but continued to ignored it because I’m not answering the front door wet and in a towel for anyone (except maybe Publisher’s Clearing House … or the pizza guy).
Then, all of a sudden, I heard our front door open. I froze mid-shampoo and listened to the man call-out, “Maintenance is here!” What was I supposed to do at that point, reply back, “I’ll be out in a minute!” in a chirpy, sing-song voice and offer him to sit down on the couch and wait? No way. This is how slasher films and pornos start, and I simply refuse to be the star of either.
I didn’t say anything, just continued my shower, figuring that the maintenance worker would hear the shower running and, Oh-I-don’t-know, LEAVE the apartment and come back later because it’s kind of inappropriate to be a stranger in someone’s home while they’re naked and vulnerable and soapy.
But he didn’t leave. I heard him banging around in the kitchen (our apartment is really small and everything is out in the open ... including the bathroom), probably looking for places to put more mousetraps. And that’s another thing, I knew maintenance was supposed to come by and put down traps, but they said they would be there no later than 4pm. Well, it was 5pm, so as far as I was concerned, their window of opportunity was snapped shut and they should have rescheduled. I’d rather have a mouse see me without clothes on than a beefy man with a tool belt and set of keys to my apartment.
I finished my shower as quickly as possible and then sat awkwardly on the toilet lid in my towel, berating myself for not thinking to bring a change of clothes into the bathroom with me (stupid me for not planning ahead for company). I’m at a loss for the appropriate protocol for a situation like this. What do I do? Open the bathroom door a crack and yell out, “I have to go to my bedroom now. No peeking!”?
After what seemed like 5 billion lifetimes, Clayton finally came home. I heard his voice in the kitchen, shooting the breeze with the maintenance guy, oblivious to his wife who locked herself in the bathroom to save her life and/or protect her honor.
I eventually mustered up the courage, opened the bathroom door a crack and hissed, “CLAYTON!” When he appeared in the doorway, I whispered, “I need some clothes! Can you get me some clothes?”
Matter-of-factly, Clayton replied, “Just go get some from the bedroom. He won’t be able to see you.”
Really, Clayton? Really? You want me to just prance out the bathroom, naked as a jay-bird, with only a thin piece of terry cloth covering my biblical areas? Fine. Whatever. But if the maintenance man and I run away together, you only have yourself to blame.
Maybe I’ve just way too modest (and goodness knows I am far too paranoid). I don’t know, but the whole situation skeeved me out. Our apartment’s maintenance staff is absolutely wonderful and we know most of them by name (one of my favorite guys on the property calls Joey “Killer” every time he sees him), but I just think it’s a little weird that someone came into my home, heard my shower, and yet didn’t leave.
Regardless, Clay and I eventually made it to Indy where I got to see one of the greatest shows on the planet! I’ve seriously never heard an audience scream so much or cheer as loudly as these fans did. The cast was amazing. They did all of the popular numbers from the show’s second season, and I literally started shrieking when I saw Chris Colfer. There vocals are even better live than in the studio! And it was there that I decided that I totally forgive Clayton for shoving me out of his way when he thought he saw a shark in Florida because I know that sitting in a stadium with thousands of shrieking girls is not his idea of a good time. That man truly loves me.
But obviously not enough to think I need to put clothes on around the maintenance guy.
That does it for me for posting this week! I have a busy weekend ahead starting with a 5K race on Saturday morning. The race is called “Race for Literacy” and supports The Teacher’s Warehouse, an organization that delivers educational supplies free-of-charge to elementary schools in South Central Indiana. Not only do I get a free t-shirt, but also my entry fee is going towards a charity. It’s a win-win!
I haven’t been obsessing over this race like all of my other ones. I think it’s because I know my body is more than capable of doing 3.1 miles, and I’m trying really hard to stop putting unnecessary pressure on myself. It’s a race for a good cause, not a race for Courtney to try and win an Olympic medal. I’ve ran 2 marathons and a 7k race, but never a 5k. It will be new experience and I’m excited to tackle this supposedly “rough” course. When my friend told me it was a notoriously hard race (probably due to all the hills we have around here), I decided right then and there that I will not be setting a goal time. I just want the exercise and to have some fun. I will report back on Monday!
Have a great weekend, everyone!