Maquinna's Poop du Jour

Channeling MacGyver

You know how you have one of those days where everything points to a completely normal day...and then in one small instant, your day is completely upside-down?

Yesterday I returned from Boot Camp and started getting ready for work. Showered, dried my hair, got dressed. No breakfast - I was supposed to be making a stop at the lab for some routine bloodwork so I needed to be fasting. Fully dressed - skirt, blouse, heels - I headed back into the bathroom to brush my teeth and throw on a bit of lipstick before heading out the door.

I opened the bathroom window to let in some of the fresh breeze and de-fog the place. I opened another window on the other side of the landing to create a cross-breeze. When I returned to the bathroom, the door, swollen from the summer humidity and unable to fully shut for several months now, got caught by a gust of wind and slammed shut tight. It's just after 7 am.

I didn't think much of it at first, spitting out toothpaste into the sink, but with my first attempt to pull the door open, I realized it was going to be a lot harder than I thought. I pulled, and pulled, and the door wasn't budging even a bit. I checked the knob - was it locked? No. I pulled some more. Nothing.

What to do? I was all alone. I live on a fair amount of acreage in a rural area with few neighbours nearby. Craig wasn't expected home for about 12 hours. I didn't have my cell phone with me - and even if I had, I doubt it would have been much help. My cell reception in the boondocks is nearly zero.

I started to work on the door. I tried sliding a nail file through the gaps to the tighter areas, thinking I could slowly shave out the sticky parts. No luck there - the file was not nearly up to the task. Lubricant, I thought. I squirted some hair de-frizzer, a slick wet gel, along the edges and tried to work it in. Waste of costly hair styling product.

I thought about the pins in the hinges - maybe if I could work those out, I could pry the door out from the opposite edge. I looked around the bathroom for anything that would do the job, and settled on a pair of slanted tweezers and the bottom of a metal soap dispenser for a hammer. After about 20 minutes, I had the pins out. Feeling smugly clever, I began to pull the door from that side instead.

Nothing. Not even a budge.

It was close to 8 am by this time and I was starting to get pretty frustrated, and pissed off. Options? I could stay in here, stuck all day. At least there was water, and a toilet. I thought about taking a 10 hour bath. I thought about cleaning the bathroom (that thought passed very quickly due to total lack of interest). I thought about...the window.

I was on the second floor. The bathroom window is a tall, narrow crank-out mechanism, and I'd guess it was about 20 feet off the ground. Below, a soft grassy landing - but that's still 20 feet down. How to do it?

There is a partial roof, maybe 4 feet down and 6 feet to the right of the window. Could I jump from the window to that roof, and then from the roof to the ground? I doubted it. The more it seemed like I could do it, the more I saw myself clawing for the edges of the shingles, to no avail. What about a rope, I thought. I could cut up a towel, and make a rope.

I took the worst towel from the stack - or at least, the one with the most stubborn stains - and figured if I cut it into strips and knotted the strips together, it would make enough. But what to cut through the binding on the edges with? Toenail clipper, of course. After another 20 minutes, I had 20 feet of towel rope in my hands. I wound it around the window crank and tested it - it was certainly strong enough to hold me. Then I sat down on the toilet for a few minutes to gather my courage and ensure that I didn't shit my drawers on my way down to the ground.

I figured if I was going out the window, I might not be able to make it back into the bathroom, so I tossed out all the things I had with me that I thought I'd need, or would get in my way. Heels came off and went down first. My glasses and purse followed. I looked down at them waiting for me.

It still seemed like a long way down, though. I had a lot of trouble just getting up onto the windowsill. I pulled down a shelving unit to make a step up, but the particleboard was pretty iffy. I tried the garbage can...but the lid groaned and bent to the side. Eventually I monkey-climbed my way up. and sat there, legs dangling over the side. It was a beautiful morning.

How hard can this be, I thought. Five minutes and this will all be over.

Five minutes, I thought, and I'll be lying on the ground with a broken neck.

I chickened out.

Pulled at the door some more. Got REALLY angry. Took the toenail clippers, opened them up, and started using the lever to pry around the edges of the door and attempt to unstick it. All I got was a lot of damage to the door frame, and the door still firmly and resolutely shut.

Back to the window. Chicken out again.

I realized there was only one tool left to my disposal - my lungs. I didn't know if anyone could hear me over the wind, or if I could yell loudly enough, but I thought it was worth a shot. I waited for a pause in the wind, and filled my lungs with air.

HELLLLLLPPP!!!!

HELLLLPPP!!!

Over, and over.

I heard a truck coming up our long driveway. I yelled, and yelled some more. Nothing...and then I heard the truck leave. Fist slammed against door.

Considered long bath again. Noted mildew around taps and drain of sink, found a cloth and wiped them out. Climbed up to windowsill again, decided that the only way I could ever go down that rope was if the house was on fire. Chickened out, removed dustbunnies from behind shelf unit. Noted tub needs cleaning. Thought about a nap, but figured that would totally eliminate any hope of someone coming to my rescue before evening.

Started screaming out the window, non-stop. Every time I yelled, I could hear Abby, the neighbour's dog, barking. I remembered that Abby's human, Dave, worked evenings and would probably be home, but likely in his basement working with power tools (Dave does a lot of woodwork). But at some point, he'd have to turn the saw off or get sick of that dog barking. I kept yelling, and yelling, until I thought I'd be hoarse. It's past 11 am.

Suddenly I hear Dave calling back - WHERE ARE YOU!!! - and I know I'm saved.

Poor Dave was worried I'd gotten hurt somehow, but once I explained the situation, he's relieved and comes up the stairs to shove against the door...before I had a chance, however, to tell him that the pins were out of the hinges...and that door came crashing into the bathroom like a drawbridge slamming down over the moat. Four hours of thwarted creativity and abject frustration gave way, like the door, to a welling of tears. Dave made a hasty exit before having to deal with a blubbering (but intensely grateful) neighbour, and the only thing that was going through my head was...

Thank god I have clothes on.

posted by Maquinna @ 9:57 a.m.