In the last three weeks, I have had my car crashed into, signed more paperwork than Aerial did when she sold her soul to Ursella and have been trapped in a stairwell. February was an awesome month.
The insurance company has a pool going on what hit my car. The most likely explanation on why I had two dents. One at shoulder height behind my back passenger window, and the other on my bumper, is a very angry beaver with a hammer. Damn those beavers.
The parking spot I normally leave my car in, is at the bottom of the stairs of our apartment. It sits fairly close to the giant garbage compactor for the complex. I heard a crashing noise about 4, nothing new. I went outside about 430 and there was a very nice, hand sized dent in my car. Chris found the dent in the bumper. The body shop found the spare tire base was crooked.
Chris told me to call the non-emergency line for the police to see if we needed to fill out a police report.
Any witnesses? No (the one time no one is looking out their window)
Private property? Yes
Sorry, can't help.
Lovely.
The insurance company took my claim, and I only had about 12 people call me back, trying to figure out how I could have two dents in my car. They were also confused that this happened in a parking lot, where I was parked.
No, I do no drive sideways.
In the process of getting my car squared away, I was also signing my life away to the escrow company that is holding our house. Aerial only had to sign one document to grow legs, lose her voice, and put her soul in jeopardy. She should have at least, had to show ID.
I just want a house.
One million documents later, with a million signatures I might be able to close on the house.
Maybe. Otherwise, I'll take the mermaid tail-fin.
Before I can acquire a tail I must figure out how to get out of the stupid stairwell. This is a good lesson, in why you should always have your cell phone on you. Always.
Also, take the elevator. Always.
I like to take the stairs, sue me. The new rule for taking the stairs, is make sure the door does not lock behind you. I entered the building's lobby and headed for the door that said stairs on them. Yeah, those were maintenance stairs.
You can get in, but you can't get out. I have a new appreciation for the guests at Hotel California.
I tried pounding on the doors at every floor, hoping to get someone's attention from a nearby office. Nothing.
I tried slamming the walls, hoping to grab the attention of whoever had the office next to the stairs. Again, nothing.
Time to think rationally. Something I do not do well.
Okay, if there was a fire, if you have to be able to get out. I sprinted down the steps, until the stairs ended at a door leading to what I could only hope was the garage, and unlocked. Because let's face it. No one is calm during a fire, and people may not have their keys to open the door to get out of the burning building.
Thankfully, the door did open. To a closed and secured garage. Okay, if cars can come in, then they must be able to get out. I walked around the garage, found the garage door, and then the large green button that said open.
I can only imagine what the security people were saying as they watched this on film. I left the garage, circled the building, entered the lobby, again, and pushed the button for the elevator. It wasn't until I was leaving the floor did I see the lovely grand staircase on the other side of the lobby.
Oops.
It may not be easy being green. It's not easy being an adult either. Always have your cell phone.
No comments:
Post a Comment