Off track and Out of house

So did you read how in my last post I described myself as an airhead?

Well, first allow me to share some knowledge with you (this is of course an attempt to convince you I'm not a complete idiot after reading about what I did last night.)

Let's study the etymology of the word "airhead" in Spanish. One way of saying this is despistado. Pista means "track/trail/road" and 'des' is a prefix usually indicating the opposite meaning of the word it is attached to. So I'm not an airhead, right? I'm just a little off track! The verb despistar means "to confuse or mislead someone" - or "to throw them off track."  A person who is a despistado, however, is basically someone who throws himself/herself off track. And, well, if no one else is causing this state but yourself, it doesn't say much for your intelligence. It's one thing if the wicked witch comes and rearranges all your bread crumbs so that you end up lost or in a pot of stew in her kitchen. It's another thing if you eat all the breadcrumbs because you are hungry and only afterward remember that they were your only hope in finding your way home.

Last night I sort of ate all the breadcrumbs.

So a mere 15 minutes after posting my last blog post in which I admit to being "a bit of an airhead," I locked myself out of the house. Using the modifier "a bit" was maybe wishful thinking. We stupidly do not have any spare keys hidden anywhere and my partner, David, is in San Fransisco marrying two of his friends. (Wait, that sounds weird. Although California did finally overturn its ban on gay marriage in February of this year (yay!), the decision is still on hold and it is definitely not yet legal to get married to two people at once. What I mean to say is that he will be officiating the wedding. He is an official, ordained minister thanks to the internet and this church.) So, David and his keys are in California, my keys are inside, and me and my dog are on the front porch. Also inside is our tool box which contains any tools necessary to try and break in through the kitchen window - which we have done before. I borrowed a screwdriver from a neighbor but was unsuccessful.

So then I call a friend who calls a locksmith and even brings me dinner while we wait for him to show up. Two hours went by while we sat in the backyard sweating and getting eaten by mosquitoes until eventually my friend's 3 year old started saying "I don't wike dis" over and over and over again. I didn't like it either. The locksmith turned out to be super shady and never showed up so we called another locksmith. My friend had to go put her child to sleep,  so I called some other friends to come over so that I wouldn't be alone with the shady criminal with the tear tattoo who was about to come over to break into my house. About 30 minutes later came a legitimate, certified locksmith who also happened to be a 72 year old man with no face tattoos.  It took him a lot more time to get up the stairs to the front door than it did to actually pick the lock. He then spent even more time telling me how the first people I called were probably "them illegals." Not cool old man. So - 4 hours, 2 locksmiths and $75 later, I got back into my house.

So I may be more than a bit "off track" but at least I learn from my mistakes. And you can too!  Locksmiths can be shady and you should always have a spare key hidden somewhere outside of your house. Of course, everyone but me probably already knew that.

(p.s. if you read this will you officially "follow" me?!?!)