MONDAY - TUESDAY, July 21-22
So you know, another benefit to having your laundry room on a fourth floor balcony, aside from being exposed to the elements when you go to throw a load of diapers in, is that your only work surface is a wall which has a four-story drop on the other side.
This one night I was out there doing some late night laundry at around 11pm. And wouldn't you know it, I accidentally dropped something over the edge of our balcony wall. I looked down and watched it fall all the way down to the gutter. It was hard to know if it was worth the trip down, or if it was worth playing tug-of-war with any rats that might also be in the gutter, since I didn't know what fell. It could have been a worthless rag, or it could have been one of the three tops that don't look like tents on me. So I noted the approximate spot where it fell into, grabbed the flashlight and headed out.
You know we have this entryway that looks like this.
There is wide-grid gate, then a little hall for shoes and such, then the actual front door. For some reason you have to turn the key twice with our gate in order to fully lock it. But I was lazy, and decided to only turn once. I went out, fished out the item, which turned out to be a pair of George's underwear (humph) and went back upstairs. I got confused when I was unlocking the gate because I'd only turned it once, and so I changed directions as I was unlocking it. And then, the lock froze. There was no turning it in either direction. I shimmied and jimmied and nothing. I was locked out.
I rang the doorbell and George came. He tried everything too. He tried different keys, he tried dismantling the door/lock with tools. Nothing. He and Regin were locked in!
I'm tired, it's late at night, I want to go to bed, but I'm sitting on the scummy floor outside of our apartment. And now I'm starting to panic in case something happens with Regin inside, because there is no other way out of the apartment, so he and George are really trapped in there! Meanwhile, it's been that long since my last snack that George has to pass me a small container with cereal through the grid of the gate.
George calls everyone he can think of: our real estate agent, the apartment management people. No one answers this late. Next he will try the police, but wait! He did it! It's open and I can get in. Now we won't lock the gate again because what if we can't get out? There is no fire escape or anything. Just our front door with gate beyond that now has lost our trust.
When the guys came days later to repair the lock, they couldn't figure out anything wrong with it. It seemed to work fine. I explained what had happened, and there was some back and forth and further head scratching before the repair guy finally just sprayed some WD40 or something and called it fixed. The apartment maintenance guy now says we "don't have to worry. It's fixed already. It won't happen again." Ha!
I thanked him. As he started to walk away he said for me to go ahead and lock it. I refused. He said again it was fine and the problem would not happen again! I told him I couldn't be sure and so I couldn't endanger my son by possibly trapping us inside. No matter what I said, he didn't get it. I should feel safe, please lock the gate. Finally I was so flustered I actually (shamefully) pulled the "In America we'd never" card. I explained how our safety was compromised by the lack of additional escape routes, and even if I could be sure of the lock, which I can't, what if I lost my key? I told him I wanted a lock you could open from the inside without a key, and some kind of obstruction on that part of the gate so people can't get their hands in to unlock the door. Nope, that would be ugly, he says. So I suggest a more secure inner front door with a peep hole. He thinks that's reasonable, and he'll get back to me.
Still waiting...
No comments:
Post a Comment