Birthday Misadventures

Yesterday I turned 34 years old. I had an excellent birthday even though the day began with a locksmith.

Well, that's not entirely accurate. My morning technically began with a sourdough bagel and cream cheese. Nathan has a crazy trial that begins tomorrow, so he needs to work all weekend; but he wanted to spend some time with me. After our bagel breakfast, we decided to play a little Mario Kart before he headed off to the trenches.

As Nathan turned on the Wii, I ducked into our front bathroom. I brushed my teeth, washed my hands, grabbed the handle to leave and ... the door wouldn't open. I tried again and although the knob turned like it normally does, the door would not budge.

I assumed that the door was just wedged in a little tightly, so I called for Nathan. He's a big guy and could easily force the door open with his shoulder.

He could not open the door either. From his side, the handle appeared to be locked. But from my side, the knob acted like it was unlocked. WTF?

I was stuck in our windowless bathroom. Let's take a moment to review some basic background facts: it was my birthday; I'm seven months pregnant; and my husband needed to get to the office because he has an ass shit ton of work to do for this trial he's working on.

When I realized I was stuck in the bathroom, I felt my pregnancy hormones surge. I wanted to freak out and cry even though things were obviously going to be okay. But I did not cry (yet) and I managed to stay calm.

For the next half hour, Nathan and I tried numerous tricks to try to open the bathroom door. The screws for the door knob were on my side, but none of our screwdrivers would fit under the door. Nathan passed me a knife, but it would not turn the screws. He passed me a different knife - no dice. I eventually told Nathan to get Bob, our neighbor across the street who is a contractor; but at this point, it was only 7:15 a.m. and Bob did not answer the door. Finally, I called a locksmith. (Nathan had passed my iPhone under the door so I could distract myself while he went to Bob's house.)

The locksmith said he could be at our house in 30-35 minutes. Shortly after I spoke to the locksmith, I sat down on the toilet and started to sob hysterically.

Nathan said lots of reassuring things to try to calm me down. I screamed something along the lines of, "I JUST NEED TO CRY! MY PREGNANCY HORMONES ARE OUT OF CONTROL! LET ME CRRRRRYYYY!!!"

I cried for about three minutes, and then the storm passed and my hormones settled down. As I was crying, I felt bad for Nathan. I knew he felt awful listening to his pregnant wife cry on her birthday while she was trapped in a windowless bathroom. But I could not help myself. I had to cry or my head would have exploded.

After my crying jag ran its course, I tried to enjoy my captivity. I played Words with Friends with Nathan, who continued to say sweet, reassuring things from the other side of the door. I texted my sister about my plight. And since I was in the bathroom, I used my fancy sea salt scrub to carefully exfoliate my face.

Making the most of my captivity.

I was going to apply a face mask, but then the locksmith arrived and hey, it only took him twenty-five minutes to get to our house. So there's that.

The locksmith passed a screwdriver with a very small handle under the door. I calmly unscrewed the knob.

My trophy.

For the next fifteen minutes, the locksmith worked away at the knob and locking mechanism. He had to knock away every bit of metal because a lever in the door knob had broken.

I asked Nathan to send me a photo so I could
imagine the drama unfolding in the hallway.

Finally, after fifteen minutes, the door swung open and I was free! I hugged Nathan. Then I wondered if I should hug the locksmith, but that would have been weird, so I just thanked him a dozen times. All told, the adventure lasted about ninety minutes.

According to the locksmith, this is apparently what happened: a lever in our doorknob snapped and broke, trapping me inside. I did nothing wrong. Repeat: I DID NOTHING WRONG. This incident just falls under the category of "shit happens."

When I was first trapped in the bathroom, I was so annoyed, but now I feel really, really, really lucky. This could have happened on Monday, when Nathan was at the courthouse, and I could have been trapped in the bathroom all day without food, a comfortable chair, my iPhone or something to read. Or, God forbid, this could have happened in three or four months, while I was taking a shower and Baby Girl was napping in her crib. I could have spent all day trapped in the bathroom while Baby Girl was crying for me in another room. Can you imagine? And at least I was in the bathroom, where I had a toilet and sink. These amenities were greatly appreciated.

As an extra stroke of luck, I had already scheduled a birthday pedicure for 10 a.m. 

Being trapped in the bathroom is not so bad when you get

 a reward like this.

By the time I was lounging at the nail salon, my morning misadventure was already an amusing story. As my sister Katherine observed, it was like my own personal episode of Modern Family.

In case you were wondering, our guest bathroom does not at the present time have a door knob. The old knob is perched on the mantle like a trophy and "buy new door knob" has been added to my to-do list. For the record, the bathroom's new door knob will not have a lock. And yes, I'll be buying non-locking knobs for several other doors in our house. Before we know it, Baby Girl will be Toddler Girl, and I don't need a toddler trapped in a bathroom or bedroom, thank you very much.