Welcome to the Neighborhood

To start with, I sincerely apologize for having left the blogosphere for so long.  I could give you a laundry list of excuses, but in the end, I was just lazy, and it was the holidays.  So thank you for your patience, I hope you continue reading about my life in THE mountain town.

My boyfriend and I just bought a house (another reason excuse I haven't written a blog entry in a while).  And as first time homeowners, we are learning a lot, mainly the value of a Home Depot gift card (priceless).  I grew up in a very close neighborhood, everyone knew their neighbor, there were neighborhood parties all the time (scavenger hunts, 4th of July parties, battle of the sexes, Christmas caroling), it was safe, comforting, and fun.  This is what I imagine my new neighborhood will be like.  The first step in recreating my old neighborhood is to meet the neighbors, and I had come up with a few different ways of accomplishing this task, baking cookies, throwing a party, but fate had something else in mind.

I spent the first Saturday in my new house unpacking, which lead to a monster pile of boxes which had housed mainly crap.  I decided to throw the empty boxes in the trash outside, and as I stepped out of my front door I took note that the door was locked and I didn't have a key in my hand.  I decided to resist all instincts and gut feelings telling me to get the keys and instead through caution to the wind and left the door ajar.  I mean, the door had never shut on its own the whole time I had lived in the house.  I took the boxes out, put them in the garbage, and as I shut the lid to the garbage can, I heard another click. 

At this point everything starts going in slow motion.  I reached the front door in what seemed like hours, and as my hand turned the knob, the door confirmed what I really already knew, I was locked out. F*%k, f&^k, f%$!

My brain quickly went into triage mode, assess the situation and do what makes the most sense (yeah, this is when I wanted to start using common sense):
1)  Use shoulder to knock down front door.  Turns out real front doors are nothing like the front doors in Hollywood, or I need a better personal trainer.
2) Lift the automatic garage door with bare hands.
3) Get garage door opener out of locked car by pushing the windows down with my bare hands.

Surprisingly, none of these options panned out.  After spending about 1 minute trying to break into my new house, I resolved to accept defeat.    And so at 12:00pm on a Saturday, in my pajama pants, t-shirt, fluffy slippers, in 30 degree weather, I sat down on my front porch, head in hands and began waiting for my boyfriend Charles to get home.

Then from across the street I heard "welcome to the neighborhood".  I looked up from my sorrow and saw my neighbor from across the street waving at me.  My first thought was "really? I am obviously trying to break into my own home in pajamas, and all you can say is 'welcome to the neighborhood'?!"  What I said was "thanks", but I didn't sound like I meant it.  Then it hit me, this was my chance, quickly before he gets in his car and leaves! 

I jumped up from my front porch and ran as quickly as my fluffy slippers would let me across the snow packed street.  "Excuse me, sir?"  I said with a nervous laugh as I reached his garage.  "I seem to have locked myself out of my house and I was wondering if you could call a locksmith please, he he he."

Not only did my awesome neighbor Jon call a locksmith, he lent me a winter coat, set up a chair in his garage next to the space heater and kept me company for the 20 minutes it took for the Lock Doc to show up.

I have since met a few more of my neighbors in a more traditional way, while checking the mail.  And while most people would be embarrassed to have their first meeting with a neighbor take place while wearing pajamas, I have moved on.  In fact Charles and I have already planned our first party, a Super Bowl party  of course. 

And yes, Jon is invited.