Locked out.

Right after I published my previous post, I decided to throw in another load of laundry before hopping in the shower to clean it. Great idea, right? In theory, yes. In execution, not so much.

Doing laundry here requires that I go down the pink stairs outside our apartment to a little closet where our washing machine and dryer now reside. I *almost* always grab my keys... just in case the door would close. But to it has never closed on its own. Until today that is, one of the few times I didn't grab the keys. Unfortunately, I failed to factor the open apartment windows into the equation.



There I was switching the clean, wet clothes from the washing machine to the dryer when BAM, I heard the door slam shut. I didn't have a clue what time it was, how long John had been gone, or how much longer it would be until his return. So, I did what any normal person would do... walked down to the get the mail, used water from the dryer to clean the closet windows, read (ha, more like looked at) the newspaper, tried to position myself in the sunlight... you know, the usual. When I got cold, thanks to the shorts I was wearing, I squeezed into the closet for a minute in hopes of warming up.

Finally I decided enough was enough, I would see if it was any warmer outside. To my surprise it was. So I propped the door open and hoped it would stay that way since our only front door key was also locked now in the apartment. Let's just say I was quite a sight. Shorts with white legs exposed, a tight white shirt with a protruding belly and a purple Nike sports bra peering through didn't exactly help the no shower situation. Luckily I had thrown on a lightweight purple hoodie that I somehow managed to zip up to hide what was underneath. Off I went. I caught my reflection in a window and just giggled.

Another moment of luck came when I headed back up to the apartment just to make sure no one had removed my wooden door stop. Right as I approached a lady was coming out and removing the stop in the process! I think I startled her, as I frantically ran in before the door shut. Either that or it was the fact I was wearing shorts, in March, when Europeans generally don't wear shorts. period.

By the time John got back I happened to be holding the door open with one foot in an attempt to get some more fresh air and sunlight. I saw the Mercedes plastered in Phoenix Hagen logos turn down the mountain and busted out in uncontrollable laughter. He looked at me like, "what in the world is my pregnant wife doing now?" I couldn't control myself though. The situation was entirely too hilarious. Of course he first words were, "You locked yourself out, didn't you?"

Oh John, you know me all too well. Who would have thought that a simple household task such as doing laundry could nearly make me cry from laughing so hard?