Good morning everybody!
So last week I wrote this: I Desperately Need Your Help – Please Read and the amount of support I have received in less than a week has been incredible. I really cannot thank everyone enough for reaching out to talk to me and for everyone who has donated. It has honestly helped more than I can ever express for my mental health and for the situation I’ve found myself in, which has gone from like a ten to a four in terms of Crisis Lockdown Mode. I still have quite a lot of work to do, but everyone’s help has given me the opportunity to get my life back on track far quicker than if I had just tried to go at it alone, so thank you.
I wanted to share another story with you, which while extremely unfortunate, is also a much funnier example of how the universe has been trying to humble this hoe. I don’t know why I’m being tested like this, but needless to say never think, “Well it can’t get any worse than this,” because inevitably it will and then you’ll be like me, aka
My crisis really began on the 1st of July when I was like, “Oh shit,” regarding the situation in my last post. Then on the 6th of July I was like, “No seriously this is so bad,” and I posted that post and then on the seventh I was like, “Wow people are actually helping me,” and at that point I accepted that I would also have to tell the people closest to me in my non-anonymous life what was going on.
A very good friend of mine offered their guest room for a month starting tomorrow, so I set out subletting my flat so that I wouldn’t be evicted and also so I wouldn’t have to worry about rent for a month while I fix this problem. I found another friend immediately who was like, “Hey I need a place!” and thus I was able to rent my flat out from last Friday. Obviously I’m not moving in with my other friend until tomorrow, but a good friend of mine from uni named Cash (well on the blog at least…you can read about some of our shenanigans in The Weekend Trilogy: Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Cash is kind of a dumb name so I’m going to call him Will since that’s his name in the SAO book) told me I could stay with him for the weekend.
However, despite previous relations, we are just friends (FWB can be demoted to just friends, exes cannot – take note) and he lives with his lovely girlfriend now. They were going on holiday Friday morning with her parents and then he was to return Sunday evening and she and her parents are to return tomorrow. His exact words were, “The only condition for the house is that you have to keep it uber clean and tidy and not get too rowdy or burn the house down, as her parents are in town so we want to show them a lovely apartment :)” And I was like, “Yes. I can do that. No problemo, pal.”
Friday comes along and I pack all my shit up and get out of my flat, then go and pick up the keys from one of Will’s friends since he took off stupidly early that morning and we had arranged all of this last minute. Then, because I was sick of dragging my shit around London I sat at a pub with a friend for a few hours catching them up on what had happened and just generally having them give it the best, “there there, mate” before heading to Will’s very nice house in the SW1 region.
I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to open an archaic lock on a Victorian-era door, but it was nothing like this
In fact, it was the opposite of that, and after an hour of trying to open this front door, which I knew for sure was indeed his front door because I was able to get the bottom lock open but not the top Houdini lock, I was like, “Well, shit.” Will wasn’t picking up the phone or answering texts, so I looked around my surroundings for what I could do.
It was at this point that I made a decision that resulted in this very story which will be told by our friends for years to come if the reaction I’ve had from them thus far is anything to go by.
Another aspect of these Victorian style (I don’t actually know if their Victorian but it sounds right) houses is that below the street level is actually the ground level, and I peered over to see one of the smallest patios in London just to the side of me and a floor below. There was a door that had a similar looking lock to the lock on the front door, which I had successfully unlocked, and thus my logic was that my only hope would be to hop down there, pray that this key I had opened that door, and if not to just climb back out of there.
Abandoning my suitcase at the front door, I climbed over the fence, careful not to impale myself on the iron spikes. Then I sat on the edge of this hole in the ground that could potentially lead me into this house and am like “Y-literally-OLO” and eased my way down into this area. There was a moment, as I hung off the side trying to find my footing before letting go where I was like, “Mmm…this might not be a great idea,” but then my upper body was starting to strain so I let go and landed on my feet and nothing in my life has ever been more
My only hope was that the key unlocked that door, but of course it fuckin didn’t because that wouldn’t be interesting enough to tell everyone. Like, “Yeah and then things finally went my way for once in my goddamn life!” No. Like I said, this is a story about being humbled by the universe.
So now I’m like
At that moment I look up and realise that my years of being best friends with men that are all above average heights has led me to believe that I am indeed much taller than the five feet and three inches I possess because I am now staring up from the ground floor to the first floor and it is at that point that I’m like
But I’m like, “Come on. You can DO this. You are [my first, middle, and last name here]. It’s like that Unbreakable Kimmy Schmit song says
So I muster up my best “you go girl!” attitude, begin to climb out of this hell hole I’ve dropped myself into, realise that not only have I misjudged my height but I also have no upper body strength, go to gracefully lower myself back onto the ground, trip on a big plant and fall backwards, hitting my head against a large window.
To my credit, I did get quite far in the whole, “let’s climb the hell outta here” thing, which meant that I fell much harder than I would’ve had I just clumsily tripped and fell like I usually do. It was at this point, with my head resting against a glass pane, on my back, in some pretty serious pain that I was like
THEN I stood up, turned around and saw that not only had I fallen, but I had broken the window. Completely cracked. By me and my dumb head. But I was like, “Okay…silver lining time, there’s a big arse hole, just poke some more glass out and step through this window and then deal with your mistake from the inside of this house.”
Again, not sure if you’re familiar with common London architecture, but on the other side of that pane of glass – ANOTHER PANE OF GLASS. Yeah, double-paned! So now, not only am I standing in a pile of dirt and glass, but I’m still stuck outside of this GD house and now my hand is bleeding. I resigned myself to the most logical fate.
Standing there, cold and alone, I kicked the other window once but apparently only me launching myself at the window from seven feet in the air would break it and then I was like, “Then what? Get glass all over the house, don’t be so DAFT.” Advice I could’ve used from myself about ten minutes earlier. Then I got all Braveheart like, “We will not die today!” After all, I had thought that my life was ending only a few days earlier and managed to pull it around. Really though it was more like
So I did what I would do on Who Wants to be A Millionaire? and I decided to phone a friend. Aka the police. BUT my phone wasn’t working. Because of course it wasn’t! It was like, “You’re below ground, idiot!” But then I realised that since I had been to Will’s house before and he’s got highspeed wifi internet, that my phone had automatically connected to it. Thank God for WhatsApp, but also I should have been a bit more calm than, “Hey I’m stuck in a hole, I broke a window and I’m bleeding” to the drunk friend I texted because they flipped the eff out, as one should in this situation, it was really the most appropriate response, but yeah he then called the police, told them what had happened and was like, “Sit tight amiga! It’s going to be okay!” And finally I’m like
An indeterminate amount of time later (could’ve been five minutes, could’ve been an hour) I hear, “Is everything alright, miss?”
I look up and see six policemen staring at me and I’m like
To which they were like, “Well, clearly you’re not.” And then I have to tell them the story and they’re like, “Are you sure this is the right house.” And yes I’m sure because like I said before, one of the locks worked, and I told the police as much. But then they’re like, “Wait, you have the keys?” And I have to tell them that the door is Satan reincarnated so they ask me to throw them the keys, and I do, then one of these a-holes goes, “Whoops! It went down the drain…ha ha just kidding.”
Not the time, pal!
Then they start to try and unlock the door while the head policeman is interrogating me like, “How do we know you’re not trying to break in?” And I’m like, “I know I look dumb as hell down here, but do you actually think that if I were breaking and entering that I would call the POLICE to assist me in this crime?”
Then the policeman is like, “Well you’re going to have to wait a few more minutes until the fire brigade gets here with the ladder.” And I’m like, “The fire WHA-” but then he’s all, “But the ambulance is already here so don’t worry.”
Yeah. The Metropolitan Police decided that this predicament I’d found myself in was so dire that they would throw every civil servant in the immediate vicinity at the situation.
The firemen arrive. EIGHT of them I noted as they all peered over the fence at me, standing there in a pile of dirt, glass and shame. Eventually they stop laughing and lower the ladder and I’m like, “Yes get me the hell out of here,” but they’re like, “Whoa don’t get too enthusiastic, be careful.” And I’m like, “Sir I may not seem like I know how to climb a ladder but I assure you that I do and what’s the worst that could happen? I fall again? You all think I’m afraid of falling? Because I’m not.”
Then comes the part where I have to climb over the fence, but my dress almost gets caught so the fireman LIFTS ME OVER himself and places me down and I look up to see TWENTY PEOPLE – YES TWENTY – STARING AT ME. I did some kind of dumb wave at all of them but really I was like
I was then ushered INTO THE WAITING AMBULANCE so that they could wipe off one little cut on my hand and then check to see if I was concussed, which actually was fair enough since I banged my head hard enough to break a window. The EMTs were incredibly nice and as they were assuring me that I didn’t need to keep apologising for wasting their time there’s a loud cheer from outside because after thirty minutes and fourteen different men trying, they get that door open. At this point I’m just grateful that the door is not only open, but that it wasn’t actually stupidly simple to open and that this wasn’t all for nought.
Everyone is really nice, and when I say everyone I mean nineteen people. The firemen were lovely, the EMT ladies were super nice, and then they all left along with one of the police cars, leaving me with four policemen. Three of whom were quite amused, one of whom was not in the slightest. I think he was quite mad that I had managed to charm pretty much everyone around me by the time everything was said and done. I, of course, was not trying to do this, just trying to be as gracious and apologetic as possible.
This policeman was not happy with that. He was like, “WHAT were you thinking?” And I was like, look…
Then he was like, “You could’ve died!” And I was thinking, “That might have been preferable to being lifted over a fence and judged by the lot of you,” but clearly I didn’t say that, I was like, “You know what? A part of me DID die down there. RIP to my pride.” Okay I didn’t say that either, but that doesn’t make it any less true.
THEN he’s like, “How do we know you’re going to tell your friend about this?” And I’m all, “He’s one of my best friends, also I think he’s going to notice.” ANDTHENHEMAKESMETRYTOCALLWILL. AT ONE IN THE MORNING. WHILE HE’S ON HOLIDAY WITH HIS GIRLFRIEND AND HER PARENTS. As it rang I was like, “Please baby Jesus. PLEASE don’t let him answer.” And baby Jesus was like, “Girl, you’ve been through enough. That phone is on silent. Hakuna matata.”
So the policemen leave after watching me go inside and shut the door. Also after watching me open the door again and pull my suitcase that had been abandoned during all of this by the front door inside, and then shut the door for real. I caught head policeman’s eye before closing the door and he was just like
To his credit, I was a goddamn hot mess.
Finally, I get some sleep.
Waking up and feeling like you’ve been hit by a bus, and then subsequently remembering why that is, has got to be one of the lowest feelings in life. I was like, “Well…maybe it wasn’t THAT bad. I’ll just go look at th-”
YEAH, I KNOW RIGHT? PROBABLY ABOUT A THOUSAND TIMES WORSE THAN WHATEVER MENTAL IMAGE I JUST PAINTED FOR YOU IMMEDIATELY PRIOR TO THIS PHOTOGRAPH. I WISH I HAD MADE THIS STORY UP.
My immediate reaction was, “I’m gonna deal with that…in a minute. First I need a cup of tea.” As I sip my tea and a deep feeling of shame and panic as to how I’m going to explain this sets in, I pick up my phone and see a text from Will. I thought about what he said for a few hours before finally responding the only way I thought would allow him to enjoy his holiday in peace
I really felt like telling him what had happened was a conversation best had face to face, so I put on some wellies I found and got to work. After an hour it looked like this
Another friend was having a birthday BBQ for himself that day and I hadn’t seen this friend in awhile. My first thought had been, “I am not leaving this house and having to deal with that door again. I will lock myself in here until Will gets back tomorrow evening.” Then I thought about it and decided that even though things can always get worse it really doesn’t make sense to stop doing things in your life just because something bad could happen. So. I went to this party. And the entire way there I was like
But then I get there and the birthday boy is all, “I’m making cocktails”
And I was like, “Fuck it,” drank my espresso martini, proceeded to tell the birthday boy, his girlfriend, and their eight friends who I’d never met before this moment in my life, about the previous night and proceeded to have the best fucking time of my life.
Literally met some of the raddest people ever and they all assured me that with great pain comes great sympathy, and then after that comes great comedy since I told them the story basically exactly how I just wrote it and they laughed at me for thirty minutes. I say at me, but I think it was with me really, since I finally saw the humour in the situation. We stayed up talking so late that we all missed the last trains and since no one trusted me with the great responsibility that comes along with taking the night bus, someone threw me in their uber and dropped me off on the way home.
Then I got to the front door of doom…put the key in, pulled the door towards me, and that goddamn door swung open immediately.
The next day I had until eleven pm to figure out what I was going to say to Will and I spent most of my day dwelling on it. “I know you explicitly told me not to, but I came into your house like a wrecking ball,” didn’t seem sincere enough and, as I was shopping for something to repot the plant I kicked over into, I decided just to tell him the truth. He’s seriously the most chill friend I have, but that made me even more nervous. Maybe he was like The Hulk and you don’t want to see him when he’s angry. I didn’t know. I’ve never known him as anything but extremely nice, so I wasn’t sure what I would do with an angry Will.
It took me another couple hours of gardening and cleaning but finally it looked like this
And I was all, “Maybe they won’t notice…jk!” Because the other side of it looked like this
And the rubbish isn’t picked up until Tuesday so there was nowhere for me to dispose of these four bin bags filled with soil and glass until then. Also, yeah. That’s how far down I was.
Anyway, I’m psyching myself up to tell Will this story and he’s meant to be home at eleven but doesn’t get home until way after midnight because apparently Gatwick has a rush hour at 10pm on a Sunday at border control, but finally he gets home. My good friend Will, who I have not seen in months and who I have to now tell this story to. Luckily he gave me a good in.
“I’m sorry about the keys, how long did it take you to get in?”
So I took a deep breath and said, “Um, I didn’t want to worry you while you were away, but I need to tell you something.”
And he’s like unpacking and throwing away boarding passes and not bothered and all, “Okay what’s up?”
And I said, “This is a long story, but I wasn’t actually the one to get the door open…it took eight firemen, six policemen and two EMTs.”
At which point he stood up with a horrified look on his face and said, “Oh shit! Are you okay?”
“I’m okay, but…” and then I proceeded to tell him the story and from the moment I told him my decision to jump down to try and open the other door he was laughing hysterically.
Halfway through he said, “Oh my GOD. This is such a [my name] story.” And then by the end he said, “Only you would look at this situation and think, ‘You know what would make this better? Jumping in a hole.’”
Short story long: this is why I have the best friends in the world. They look at me, assess the inherent risk that comes along with my general mode of operation, and decide to be friends with me despite that.
We got the window replaced, took out all the rubbish, vacuumed the house and then I made him “I’m sorry I broke your window” burritos that we had with Coronas whilst watching Netflix last night.
I suppose the moral I should take away from my struggles last week is that no matter how dire a situation, there are always people and friends there to be like, “Let’s fix this so you can go write about it.” And for that I am truly grateful.