In Which Hope Heroicly Escapes from Her Bedroom by Channeling Macgyver

Yesterday, I stayed home sick. This was a necessity, as I spent most of Wednesday night/the wee hours of Thursday morning alternating between coughing and performing gastrointestinal pyrotechnics. I’m sure that you’re all glad that you know that know.

Anyways, when I woke up up on Thursday morning, I realized that I was not going to be making it into work. So, Kristian called in sick for me, left the phone next to the bed (so that he could check and make sure that I was ok later) and took off for work. I pushed the door shut to keep the cats from jumping on my head while I was trying to sleep and then went back to bed for another four hours.

I woke up at noon feeling a) very hungry and b) very much like I needed to use the bathroom. So, I went to open the door and rejoin the cats in the rest of our apartment when I realized that I was turning the knob but nothing else was happening. The knob would turn, but it wasn’t releasing the latch.

I was trapped in our bedroom.

Being a resourceful gal, I looked around for some tools with which to attempt to release myself, even if it meant disassembling the door bit by by. Murphy’s Law was in full effect at this point. Kristian and I own a lot of tools. But they were all on the other side of the door that I couldn’t open. So, I picked up the phone that Kristian had thoughtfully left so that he could check up on me, and gave him a call. The call went something like this:

Kristian: How are you feeling?
Me: Better…
Kristian: What’s up?
Me: I think I’m trapped in our bedroom.
Kristian: *Vainly attempts to stifle his laughter*

While on the phone with Kristian, I decided that the doorknob was now my enemy. The doorknob had to go. So, I just kept twisting it until it unscrewed completely. Then I poked it through the door with a jumbo sized safety pin. I heard it land on the other side with an impressive thud and I prayed to the Flying Spaghetti Monster that I hadn’t just made a huuuuge mistake.

Here is a picture of the evil door knob:

Doorknob: “This fancy duvet cover from Target is too good for the likes of me!”

Kristian promised to come home if I didn’t manage to free myself. I promised to not use the bedroom trash-can as a makeshift porta-potty unless it became absolutely necessary. He gave me the cell phone numbers of a few of our friends who work nearby and I hung up.

I called all of our friends and only one of them was available, but they did all think that me locking myself in the bedroom was absolutely hilarious. Our conversations went something like this:

Hope: Hi, what’s up, I’m stuck in my bedroom?
Friend: What?!
Hope: Yeah, the knob wasn’t working, so I unscrewed it and pushed it through and now I can hear the cats playing with it. Damn you cats! Why won’t you help me?!?!?!
Friend: *Vainly attempts to stifle his laughter*

So, there I was… stuck in my room with no tools, cats steadfastly refusing to grow some opposable thumbs and get me a damn screwdriver and one who might be able to come over and help me, but who didn’t have a way of getting into the house and no idea as to how he would actually be able to free me. Also, our room was a total mess and I didn’t particularly want anyone to see it in its current state.

What was a girl to do? I started folding laundry and I called my Dad.

My Dad, because he helped to bring me into this world and has great love and paternal instincts for me, only laughed a little bit at my predicament. He started giving me some ideas about what I could use to get the latch to un-catch. Of course, I didn’t have any of his suggested make-shift tools in the room with me. I was accused of having a room that was “too neat.” I reassured my Dad that our room was nowhere near as clean as he thought that it was. It’s just that laundry isn’t very useful as an escape tool.

Finally, my Dad suggested wrapping something around a pen to get the pen to fit in tightly where the knob had been. I ripped a perfume ad out of a magazine (Ah, Glamour, for once you have been useful beyond letting me know that my thighs are too big), wrapped it around the pen and used it to open the door. It was surprisingly anti-climactic. I’m not quite sure what I was expecting. Possibly some explosions. Or maybe some heraldic angels.

Thank you fragrance ad!

I was free! Freeeeeee! The cats looked up from playing with the doorknob just long enough to ascertain that I was not going to be giving them any kitty treats for their valiant efforts to spontaneously evolve in creatures smart enough to help me out.

I spent the rest of the day on the couch, recuperating.