I locked myself out of the apartment yesterday.
I had gone out back to check for our recycling toters, and after giving the door handle an assuring jiggle, closed it and went outside. Apparently the door didn't understand "assuring jiggle," because it was locked when I came back to it. Don't ask me to explain the hows or whys. Maybe I jiggled the inside handle, which turns regardless of whether it's locked or not. Maybe I didn't turn the lock 90 degrees and it was jostled when I closed the door, locking me out from the inside.
Regardless, I was so happy that I had put pants on to go outside. And shoes. I so rarely get dressed to peep out onto the backyard.
Other things I could have taken outside: keys, a cell phone, my wallet.
I walked down to MIT, because what other choice did I have? I could have hung out in our laundry area until J came home six hours later. Or the backyard. Those were my choices, and it was cold. Once I went outside the apartment building, I was out, so I had to make the decision quickly. Was there anywhere I could go without money or ID? Not really. So I walked down to MIT, hoping to find J in his lab before his class started, knowing it could be a shot in the dark. At least he wasn't out in Lexington!
I met J's office mate, who told me a story about the time his wife was locked out of their apartment and he found her curled up, asleep, on their landing. I was again reminded of how very glad I was that I had put on pants.
I played spider solitaire on J's computer.
Then, I got lucky. He came back to his desk before his class started. I got the keys and came home. Will this make me more careful in the future? Probably not. I swear I checked that door before I went outside. Which is why I'm never leaving the apartment again. Without pants.