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Oy Vay…………….

So, today started as a lovely day. I had a productive morning working, cleaned house, had quality kitty time, and even managed an extended meditation session.  In my meditation, I had the recurring image of being covered in dirt and leaves with a scraped arm.  Once I came out of meditation, I felt so dirty that I showered again before I got ready to go to my class.  Then, I gathered my things together and headed for the door.  Bags on arms and keys in hand, I said goodbye to the kitty before forcing my way through the screen door and pulling the big wooden door to close behind me.  Before I knew it, my keys slipped from my grasp right inside the door just as it closed shut.

Frantically, I jiggled the door handle hoping that this was the time that I didn’t turn the lock all the way.  Alas, no such luck.  I looked out to my truck and noticed the menacing gray clouds converging over me in the sky.  A distant rumble of thunder rolled towards me and I looked down at my feet shaking my head.  It was then that I realized that the clean shirt I’d just put on was the one I’d seen in my meditation.

I placed my bags in the back of my truck (which thankfully has a broken latch on the cover that won’t lock anymore). I madly rushed around the front of my building, weighing my options.  I could call my partner, James, at work but I’d still have to walk down there to fetch his keys, walk all the way back home to fetch my keys, then drop his keys back off to him on my way to class.  That would put my estimated arrival time at just about the end of the class, ruling this option out.  I thought that maybe we’d given the neighbor an emergency key that I’d forgotten about, but she wasn’t home.  I circled around to our back door, hoping that it might be unlocked, but it wasn’t.  Then, I heard another rumble of thunder that faded into the gentle hum coming from our window unit air conditioner.  I let out a gasp of exasperation as I realized how this whole thing was coming together.

The apartment I live in is a duplex nestled up to a chain link fence about five feet or so away from the side of the building.  It creates a haunting pathway to behind the building, as it’s completely overgrown from the trees and wisps of grapevine shadowing the dusty soil that spurts the occasional nettle weed or poison ivy plant.  As I walked down the gloomy pathway, clouds of dust puffed up over my toes as they protruded out of the front of my flip flops.  I examined the window with the air conditioning unit and discovered that, indeed, I had removed the lockbar from above the unit, which enabled me to open the window.

I pushed the window up as the air conditioner buzzed frantically and teetered on the sill.  I reached over it to flip the switch and turn it off before I gingerly lowered it to the side inside of the bedroom.  It was that moment that I realized how high the window truly was, and how much wider my ass had become in the past year.  I attempted to hoist myself through the window, but my arms gave way before I could pull myself high enough.  I attempted again, but the combination of narrow grasp for my hands and my, well, heftiness didn’t help to accomplish the task.  I relented again and again, but to no avail.  With a sigh, I realized that I was not going to achieve my re-entry into the house without something to boost me up.

I fetched an aluminum flower pot that wanted to buckle and wasn’t adding enough height.  I made a pile of wood that rolled out from underneath me.  I scaled the chain link fence and attempted to jump over to the window, before tasting the not so sweet taste of vinyl siding.  I was moved to tears and psychotic laughter before I decided that I should just call the class members and cancel class for the evening.  I walked over to the back of the truck to fetch my cell phone from my bag and lick my wounds (literally).  I opened the hatch on the back of the truck as rain sprinkled down on my head.  That’s when I saw it – my little miracle, my saving grace, my portable massage table!

I dragged the table over the side of the house and perched precariously on the still folded piece of equipment.  I slid the window open again to come eye to eye with the newest addition to our little family – our kitten Malach.  He sat on the bed with a look of befuddlement as to what new game I was playing.  Carefully watching the cat to ensure he wasn’t going to try to come outside, I pulled myself head first into the window.  As I got about waist deep into the window, the massage table flopped down, leaving me dangling halfway to my goal.  I began to wiggle and squirm the remainder of my body through the window as my belt loop caught on something (though I’m uncertain still as to what this was) and Malach pounced on my head.

I continued to squirm and wiggle, as I tried my best to keep the cat inside.  I finally realized that whatever had my belt loop wasn’t letting it go without a fight.  Eventually, I freed one hand long enough to roll over just enough to unfasten my jeans.  At last, I squirmed into the bedroom with what I imagine was an effort equal to a baby making it’s way out of the womb! (Okay, perhaps I’m exaggerating a TINY bit on that, but not by much!) I emerged victorious, covered in dirt and leaves with cuts, scratches and bruises, a cat on my arm, and my pants around my ankles.

I replaced the air conditioner in the window (as well as the lockbar above it).  I then pulled my pants up, dusted myself off and made my way back to the living room.  I said one last good bye to the cat before I went to find my keys.  They weren’t just by the door – they were actually TOUCHING it!  I rolled my eyes as I locked up again (with the keys in my pocket this time – I checked at least three times).  I lugged my massage table back into the bed of my truck, turning my ankle in the process.  I got in my truck and took off with just enough time to almost hit my neighbor on her way back to her apartment.  I made it to my class about ten minutes late. (I was planning on arriving at least a half hour early, to give you the time frame.) Luckily, my students didn’t begrudge me.

The morals of the story are as follows: 1. I must really love teaching my classes. 2. Put your keys in the hand that is furthest out the locked door before you close it behind you. and finally 3. Sometimes psychic impressions are extremely insightful, and other times just psychic enough to piss you off!