PTSD

Things can only get better, right?

The day so far:

6am: Get woken up by dog licking my face. This is far more disturbing than Kevin staring at me while cat-sitting for E and S last year.

6.03am: Push dog off the bed. Considering said dog is about 40lbs (when it should really be 25 pounds or so), that is a fairly difficult task. Finally manage to do it and go back to sleep.

6.17am: Dog scratches the bedroom door. Keeps on going at it. Get visions of nails being scraped down one of those old-fashioned blackboards.

6.25am: Give up on sleep. Try find glasses. Forget where they are. Realise they are probably in the bathroom.

6.27am: Trip over dog. Fall.

6.35am: Glasses were in the bathroom. Put them on. Put dog on leash and take her out. Pull door shut.

6.40am: Dog decides she wants to go for a walk. Try to persuade her this is a terrible idea at this dreadful hour of the morning. Dog refuses to listen.

6.50am: Walk with dog on the trail (behind the house). Become surprised by the number of people who are out at this hour, running or cycling or walking their dogs. Dog behaves as though all other dogs and people are intruding on her territory and barks loudly at everyone. Try hold on to the leash and mutter about "Oh, she's not mine".

Realise wearing a T-shirt saying "Save Tibet...so Nepal can occupy it" and depicting a masked man carrying a khukuri is probably not the most diplomatic statement to make in rural Virginia.

7.25am: Dog sees a rabbit and runs off. Realise running at any time is not one of my skills. Running, when wearing flip flops and when still half asleep, is definitely not recommended. Dog, in the end, does not get rabbit and appears rather shocked that a rabbit could run away from her. Thwarted by the rabbit, she decides it's time to go home.

7.58am: Reach home. Decide people wandering through deserts in search of oases probably felt like I did then.

8.01am: Realise the front door is locked. Must have turned the lock when pulling the door shut earlier. Also realise that I have no key or cell phone or anyone's telephone number. Family's out of town for a wedding. There's a list of emergency telephone numbers, all of which are on a paper stuck to the fridge. Which, obviously, is indoors.

8.15am: Go all around the house, checking all doors. I must have done a really good job the night before since all potential entrances are locked. Realise getting locked out of places I housesit is getting to be a habit. Wonder if I'll fit in through the dog door at the next housesitting place (starting later today).

8.16am: Only (potential) mode of entry = second floor window. Might be reachable from the back deck, but only if I were 20 pounds lighter and fit. I am neither.

8.20am: Drink some water (from an outside tap) and give dog some water. Contemplate what to do. It is getting warmer.

8.23am: Realise there's a choice between sitting outside, on the deck, for the next 32 hours or break a window. Decide to break a window. After all, they do this in films all the time, how hard can it be?

8.30am: Much harder than yous think, really. First, take apart the wire screen, then, try figure out where might be a good place to break the window from. Plan to bung a (large-ish) rock at it and hope for the best. Shut eyes, take aim and let go.

8.31am: Nothing happens. Stone gets entangled in the (recently damaged) wire screen and doesn't even reach the window. Dog keeps barking, thinking probably that this is a fantastic game but we should really get indoors sharpish. Soon, the police will probably arrive, then all my troubles would be over.

8.33am: Become a bit worried. What if I really can't get in? Try to lift the window (from the outside).

8.34am: It works! Window's open!! But, the window is less than a foot wide and 1.5 ft tall. Manage to fit (barely) through it. Tell myself to cut down on Starbucks Frapuccinos.

8.38am: In the house. Nothing's damaged (except the window screen and that can easily be fixed). Phew.

9am: Fed dog, fed myself and am blogging.

posted by Priya @ 9:11 AM