grab the toilet paper!

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This is my new favorite story to tell. This is a true story. A real story. I believe it to be one of my best stories. It is also recent, which makes it extra special. 

We live in Heber City now. A gorgeous little mountain town with around 10,000 occupants. It's nestled in the beautiful Heber Valley (those Mormons really loved their apostle), 30 minutes up the canyon east of Provo. It's full of cowboys, horses, and lakes, and I really really love it. I even love our tiny apartment which has less than 500 square feet. We have everything we need, and nothing we don't which happens to feel very refreshing. Heber's only downside, for now (we're not discussing the snow in the winter time), is the commute. 

Really, it's not that bad. In the mornings the mountains look glorious as I drive through them, and a half hour isn't a huge sacrifice as far as time goes. The road is pretty curvy, which makes for an interesting drive if you somehow end up going a little too fast (cough, cough), but in the mornings, for the moment, the sun is already up by the time I'm ready to leave, and I make it into work safe and sound. 

I've set you up with the look of the canyon, and now you need to know an important fact. I recently found my glasses. This is both good and bad because I don't like them, but I love being able to see, and they've become essential to drive through the canyon at night. Now that you know that, let the story begin!

Once upon a time last week, P. left me for California. He was to be a groomsman in his good friend's wedding. I couldn't go because we couldn't afford to have me take work off, and I didn't want to miss school. He also took my car Sherlock with him. Sherlock is my bff right now. We spend more time together than anything else in my life. He treats me really nicely, and I love how he purrs. Anyway, I got stuck with P.'s old SUV. It's a Rodeo with a lot of character, let's say. And by that, I mean no air conditioning, which is a bit of a travesty in the heat. It also gets horrible gas mileage, and I drive that canyon twice a day, six days a week. Therefore, I was really going to miss Sherlock.

The morning after P. left, I woke up with plenty of time to put a lunch together, shower, and get to work. The day was normal, nothing out of the ordinary, except that the clouds had been threatening rain all day. I made it through the work day and got to school. This is when I realized I had completely forgotten my glasses. I'm still not used to wearing them every day. Sitting in my normal seat on the back row was not an option if I wanted to have any hope of seeing the board. I moved to the front row, and thought nothing of it for the rest of the class.

Meanwhile, it started to storm. Rain. Lots of Rain. 

The time came to make the drive home. I got into the Rodeo and was instantly reminded that I didn't have my glasses. Which didn't really matter down in Lindon since there were streetlights everywhere, and the road was straight. 

Fast forward: I got into the canyon and started praying for my life. Because of the reflection of the water on the road, I couldn't see the lines. Because of my lack of vision, I couldn't see more than 10 feet in front of the car. My knuckles have never been so white, and my eyes have never squinted so hard. With every passing mile, I could feel the muscles in my shoulders knitting tighter and tighter. I ended up going around 10 miles under the speed limit, but I couldn't have cared less. 

When I arrived home, I was flooded with relief. Exhausted, I walked up the steps to our door and put the key in the deadbolt. It turned easily, so I went for the key to the doorknob lock. The key went in without hesitation, but when I tried to turn it, nothing happened. I tried several times to no avail, and then tried the other key, thinking maybe it was one of those convenient kind of doors that had matching keys to both locks. I'm not used to that kind of convenience. Regardless, neither of the keys worked, it was 11:30 at night, and still pouring rain outside. I pulled out my phone and dialed P. "Tell me you don't have two copies of the same key on your key ring." "Huh?" "Babe, I locked the lock on the doorknob." He sighed and asked why I would do that. I'm pretty sure he didn't mean to ask me that. I asked him why I wouldn't do that. Either way I was locked out with no one to call, and in the meantime, the rain poured. 

P. kept asking what he could do to help, and I told him there was really nothing he could do for me from so far away, so I hung up after telling him that I needed to find a way to get into house and I'd talk to him later. 

The windows to our place are about 10 feet off the ground. I'm not 10 feet tall, but one of our windows was open. That window doesn't even have a screen, so I decided I'd have to find some way up there. I walked around the house, and saw our big garbage can. It was soaking wet, but I was pretty sure it was sturdy enough to hold me, so I pulled it underneath the window and looked around to make sure there was no one on the road to think I was primed for some B&E charges. 

Keep in mind, I was coming home from school. My school uniform is all black - black pants, black shirt, socks, and shoes. I was pretty much camouflaged by the night. 

I shakily hoisted myself onto the garbage can, which held, if a little wobbly. I was so weary by then from my night's travels, everything took a supreme effort. I tried to put one foot through the window so I could lower myself onto it once I was inside, but I couldn't fit that way. I had to go through head first. I was soaked from my climb onto the garbage can and the rain, and I just wanted to go to bed. I finally made it halfway through the window, but I was still standing on the garbage can outside. I went to push off of it to scoot the rest of my body through, but when I did, it toppled over and crashed to the ground. I was positive I had just woken the entire valley, but no porch lights suddenly came to life, and in the meantime, my rear end was hanging out the window.

With a prayer that no one outside was watching and laughing, I had to wiggle and flail my legs enough so that gravity could push me onto my bed face first. I love laughing and thinking about it now, but at the time, it was a little painful.  I ended up with some ugly bruises on my thighs from sliding across the window frame, but I was in, soaked, and even more exhausted than when I had first tried to gain entry to our home. I proceeded to peel off my wet layers, and headed to the bathroom. 

I burst into tears when I remembered that we were out of toilet paper, and I had left the pack I had just bought in the car. It just seemed too much to have to put clothes back on to go get it. 

Nevertheless, a girl can't do without it, so, being careful not to lock either of the locks on my way out, I retrieved the necessaries, and finally was able to lay down. The problem then was that I was so wired by the adrenaline that had made its way through my body that I could not for the life of me fall asleep. I pulled out a book I had just checked out from the library, and let Sylvia Plath keep me company until my body got tired. Which didn't happen until 3am, and by then I felt as crazy as she was. 

The moral of the story is this: never let anyone borrow Sherlock. Never. Ever. But if you do, remember your glasses. And if you do, take the extra, unneeded key off the key ring, and add the necessary key so that forced entry is not required. And if you do, remember to grab the toilet paper. 

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