who tried to make mustard cubes with the ice tray?

fml.

can you guess what just happened to me? let me tell you.

this evening, i was indulging in some old-school cartoonage, and when i say that, i mean dubbed Sailor Moon episodes. but in the middle of that, i got an urge to watch Fern Gully (mostly because my friend Hannah had sent me a text earlier in the evening mentioning Tim Curry's sexy song in it). after sifting through my DVDs, i found that Fern Gully was not there, so i figured it was still packed away in one of the boxes in the storage shed on my porch.

there is a sliding glass door that opens to my porch, and on that door is an optional safety bar that i had set in place last night. to get out, i lifted up the bar and slid the door open. my kitten Dexter started to run for the door, and since i didn't want another episode of coaxing him out of a bush, i hurriedly slammed the door...and the safety bar fell down into locking position, instantly trapping me outside.

for a moment, all i could think was "shit." my front door was locked as well, so i was basically SOL. my landlord doesn't live on the property, and even if she did, i didn't have my phone to call her.

(it occurs to me now that i could have banged on a neighbor's door, but it was 11 pm and i'm not really friendly with my neighbors just yet. i didn't want my reputation as the new tenant to be not only an irresponsible cat owner but also a ditz who locks herself out of her apartment while trying to find her Fern Gully DVD.)

my parents live right down the road from me, 3 minutes away driving, so my only choices were (a) sleep on my porch, or (b) walk to their house.

keep in mind that i've retired for the evening, so all i'm wearing is a t-shirt and my Venom boxers. no shoes. my favorite pair of shoes just so happened to be in the living room, taunting me through the glass. (now i kind of know how Jessie in Gerald's Game felt while she was handcuffed to that bed...)

so yes, dear readers, i walked about half a mile barefoot by a fairly busy highway, dying of shame every time a car passed. i prayed a cop wouldn't pull up to me, simply so i could avoid explaining the whole predicament to someone who is supposed to assume that if a girl is walking the streets wearing boxers and no shoes in the middle of the night, she must be drunk.

after a long walk, i finally arrived at my parents' house, which is where i am now as i write this. they of course found the whole ordeal hilarious (as did i on my way over as sticks and gravel dug into the soles of my tender feet). i'll be spending the night here and then i'll get my landlord to let me back in tomorrow.

so in kind of an obscure way, this is all Hannah's fault.