Howdy y’all!

A funny thing happened on the way to posting this week’s Whaz Up!?! column and the Wednesday and Saturday articles: I got locked in our bathroom. Apparently, this is a somewhat common occurrence judging from the responses of friends, family members, acquaintances, and complete strangers that I’ve forced to listen to my story.

Last Thursday, I was getting ready for school and I stepped into the bathroom. I shut the door behind me, not really thinking anything about it. The knob did feel “funny,” and it made a “funny” sound when it closed. It wasn’t until I made to leave that I realized what all that funny business was about, though.

The handle — it’s a handle not a knob at our house — was as loose, limp, and flacid as any wilted piece of celery. I could turn that sucker every this way and that and the little dummafletcher, thingamabob, or dipthong that runs from the door to the jam just wouldn’t retract like it was supposed to.

I instantly panicked wondering how I would get out!

So, I beat on the door and shouted for Ma Belle Femme to come to my rescue, but the lever on her side as just slack as it was on mine. Worse, the door jam blocked any access she might have to the little whatchamacallit that holds the door fast.

Upon further examination, I realized that the curved side of the thing was facing away from me, so it wasn’t just a matter of getting something thin and stiff to slip in there and push it back. I’d have to come at it from a really peculiar angle.

I searched the bathroom for various tools that might do the trick. I tried the toenail clippers, but it kept swiveling around on me. I tried a comb, but the teeth kept getting in the way. My wife slipped me the only screwdriver that would fit through the slats on the door, but it was too small to be effective.

Finally, she gave me my cell phone, and I tried to get a hold of the condo management people to send a repair fellow up. It was too early for anyone to be in the office, though. I notified the school that while I didn’t have a first period class, I couldn’t be relied upon to sub for a class either.

Finally, the maintenance person showed up. I expected him to dismantle the doorknob and reach his screwdriver through to work the retracting bold, but he didn’t. Instead, he handed me various handleless screwdriver blades, but they were all too thick. In an embarrassing moment, he handed me one of our kitchen knives — why hadn’t I thought of that?!?

Anywho, I was able to jimmy the door open — a skill we should all have — using the knife. Again, I expected him to take the doorknob apart and repair the offending piece that failed. Instead, he giggled and left. What the fuck ever. He doesn’t know how to take the doorknob apart and I’m not about to risk damaging it and owing on our deposit when it’s time to move.

Yeah, but Jack, that doesn’t explain why you’ve missed ALL of our posts this week.

I know. I had to self-isolate last week because a colleague exposed me to her #COVID19 infection. I sat in our spare bedroom teaching on Zoom and twiddling my thumbs. The school went back on DL last Wednesday. EVERYBODY seems to be getting #COVID19 here. So far my little family has been free of it, but who knows. I know dozens of people who are sick.

I think I’m more than a little depressed. Dysthymic, really. I just don’t seem to have the get-up-and-go to get ‘er done. I’m able to maintain my classes and family, but that’s about it.

So, that’s my story. I hope your week was better and your week to come better still.

Huzzah!
Jack

You know what would help me feel better?

YOU sharing this post with friends, family, acquaintences, and complete strangers, that’s what!

YOU liking or rating this post, that’s what!

YOU leaving a comment about how your week went, that’s what!

YOU following Ye Olde Blogge or joining the email list, that’s what!

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Image Attribution

“Trapped #1” by waltimo is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0