But this time, things were a little more dire as the kids were at school.
So I walked around the house a few times, feebly shaking doors and windows, looking though into the living room where I saw the keys on the table and Chuy having a lazy nap right next to them.
Thoughts of episodes of Lassie filled my head as I tapped on the window, trying to arouse him from his sleep.
He opened one eye, stretched out luxuriously, flicked his tail and went back to sleep. The equivalent of a feline "FUCK YOU!".
I called Mr. Woog but he was in a meeting for an hour and really, I have no idea what he could have done anyway. He is even more useless than me in a crisis.
After I sat down to have a think, I went around one more time and noticed that my bedroom window was unlocked. This was promising, but came with the challenge that the window was quite high up. Being a resourceful woman, I dragged over the bin.
I pulled up my sleeves and stepped up onto the brick wall where I promptly fell into the half dead lavender. Having made a less than elegant recovery, I leaned over and pushed the window up. I put my left leg onto the bin and leaned on the window sill.
I stayed there for a while. I am not gifted with the physique of an athlete or a gymnast and was a bit frightened, if I could be honest with you.
Visions of me breaking any number of bones. Me lying concussed on the front lawn, bleeding from the ears. One of the elderly neighbours finding me, and calling the police to report that a thief was in town. There were SO MANY THINGS THAT COULD GO WRONG!
And then something stirred within. A fighting spirit came over me. I mean, this week had been a pile of shit and I am a goddam survivor, GODDAMMIT!
And with a rush of confidence and adrenaline, I hauled my ass thought that open window. I was unfortunately wearing some white jeans which did their best at collecting a shit load of dirt and cobwebs from that dusty old window.
I fell hard to the floor on the other side of the window and as soon as I landed, I knew that I had not got off scott free.
See that little bump on my finger? It houses the nastiest little splinter which is less than a millimetre and as I sit here typing, it throbs with each key stroke.
Despite my best attempts at keeping myself nice, sometimes these things are beyond my control.
I welcome the fifteen thousand new readers to this blog during the week, thanks to some less than flattering articles written by Mr Bolt and Ms Devine. I welcome you, and ask only one favour.
KEEP YOURSELF NICE.
