I knew it was going to happen!

I like to be semi-productive on Wednesday and Thursday mornings since I'm not required to be dressed or seen by anyone until 2 p.m.

Usually, I turn on my computer and eat a muffin while I wait. Once the computer is up and running I put on some music to do the exercises the chiropractor gave me. After that, I pick something productive to do: sweep, dust, mop, wash sweaters, wash clothes, scrub the kitchen sink, wash the windows, or whatever is dirty enough to bother me. This particularly hot and humid morning I decided the floors were the most offensive so I would sweep and mop.

The sweeping was quick and painless. Before fetching the mop from the stairwell, I had sense enough to put on a brassiere and change out of my plaid boxers into some real shorts in case I encountered someone on the stairwell. Like my neighbors, I hang the mop half a flight down in the stairwell so it will dry.

After mopping the entire apartment I rinsed the mop and carried it out in the bucket. As I was hanging up the mop I hear a door slam shut. I walked slowly back up the 10 stairs to my door and saw that it was the culprit. Ah, you say, so what? The So-What is that the apartment door is like the door in my freshman dorm, so it locks automatically when it closes.

I stood there in my tank top, shorts, the same slippers I dropped out the window recently, and my glasses all sweaty and unshowered staring at the door. It is a pretty flimsy door and you can see through the slats, so I pondered trying to break the door. Thankfully, I realized a few things before attempting this:

1) If I were successful it would be quite a mess to clean and the whole door would have to be fixed.
2) If I were successful or not I would probably end up with some nasty bruises.
3) It was highly unlikely I would actually break in the door.

It seemed my only option was to go to the teaching building, find an English teacher and explain my situation.

Of course at this point it was raining a bit and as I walked to the office, praying that the students would all be in class like they were supposed to be, I was reminded eerily of getting locked out of my dorm room freshman year of college while I was in the shower and having to go to the desk in my robe.

I hurried through the teaching building, convinced that the students were so riveted on their lessons they wouldn't glance up to see the foreign teacher in her tank top, slippers, and touseled hair. At the office I found Lucy to help me. She took my down to see Mr. Jong, the keeper of the keys, who laughed when she told him what happened. Smoking his cheap cigarette, he looked through the key cabinet. He couldn't figure out which key really belonged to my apartment so he gave Lucy and I a massive ring of keys to try. In a turn of good luck, the first key I picked out opened the door. Lucky me. :)