This is The Sunday Edit — a weekly series filled with curated recommendations, creative inspo and a short(ish) essay personal essay. This week’s edit is a little different than the rest. Don’t expect to find any recs or inso this week — sorry!
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Last week was one of those weeks where nothing seemed to go as planned. I started writing last Tuesday’s Love Niya post the night before I was supposed to hit send and ended up scrapping the entire thing out of pure self scrutiny. I re-read the article over and over, and it just didn’t seem good enough. My topic was lackluster. My words didn’t flow well enough. Why was I publishing this? I quickly decided to abort mission and deleted the article from my drafts as fast as possible.
Despite my efforts to establish a consistent writing schedule that is outside of my normal 9-5 working hours, I just hadn’t found the time to sit down and write. Sure, I had ideations of article topics and a general thesis of what I wanted to say, but the timing just wasn’t there. I can blame my long work week, but ultimately it was my fault. Too many hours spent binge watching TV. Too many late nights doom scrolling. At the end of the day, it was my own misguided desire to wait for the perfect time to write, when I felt ultra inspired and had a few uninterrupted hours to sit with my thoughts. But, there’s never a “perfect time”, and if you wait for one, it probably won’t get done.
Next thing you know, Sunday rolls around. I had already missed my routine publishing time for the Sunday Edit which I felt really crappy about. I pondered skipping altogether but figured it would be better to send the newsletter at some point in the day versus not at all.
My boyfriend is an angel and does our laundry because he knows I hate doing it. As I was ideating my Sunday Edit topic, he was simultaneously sorting the laundry. Out of the blue, he asked me if I would accompany him on his short walk downstairs to the laundry room. I thought he was joking because I never do the laundry — not because I’m above it, but because I don’t find it enjoyable. If it were up to me, I would probably opt for one of those laundry subscription services before doing it myself. Nonetheless, I decided to join him. I threw on my house slippers, grabbed the laundry bag my boyfriend asked for and closed the door behind us. Shit. I locked the bottom lock from inside our apartment and didn’t bother to grab my keys first or ask my boyfriend if he had his. Idiot. We were locked out. We were locked out with a bag full of laundry. We were locked out with a bag full of laundry and no phones. We were locked out with a bag full of laundry, no phones and I had my pajamas on!!
We both reached for the door and turned the nob like it would magically open. I had never seen such an annoyed look on his face. I felt like an idiot. Palm to forehead — there goes my Sunday Edit.
At that point, there was nothing I could do but think about what to do next.
My favorite neighbor wasn’t home, so I had to rely on the girl next door. Fortunately, she let me use her phone to call the landlord. Unfortunately, my landlord nor her locksmith nor her locksmith’s friend were able to help us. I had two options: 1. wait four and a half hours for my landlord to come save me or 2. call someone else. I ended up contacting a different, way more expensive locksmith to come get us out of the hallway and back into the apartment. I couldn’t stand waiting in the hallway and instead sat at the bottom of our building’s staircase staring angrily through the gate at the outside door. I don’t remember the last time I felt so many emotions all at once — sad, angry, annoyed — even though I knew it was an honest mistake.
After a 25-35 minute quoted ETA, the locksmith arrived an hour later. “Whatever, at least he’s here” is what I told myself. I guide him up the stairs, and we meet Jordan in the hallway. After a few attempts, he managed to get the front door open. We both thanked him, and I happily walked through the door to grab my phone for a Venmo payment. “Your total is $450”. FOUR HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS?!?! I wasn’t ready to hear that. But, it was my fault because I didn’t ask for a quote over the phone before he was even dispatched. Rookie mistake. “This is just another dreadful adulting moment” is what I tell myself.
I sent the Venmo payment then took down his number after he repeatedly asked us to in case this happened again. Sir, I don’t ever want to see you or another locksmith again. No shade to him — he was a nice guy, I just didn’t want that to happen again.
The two of us sat in silence a little after we got back in. My boyfriend is very reflective, so he apologized for the way he initially reacted to the lock out although we were both pretty upset at me. I immediately started crying (because I’m sensitive and felt dumb). One thing to note is that every time I have a break down, my boyfriend is right there to talk me off a ledge. And, talk me off a ledge he did. By the end of the conversation, my tears stopped flowing and my mind let me accept the fact that I just made an honest mistake.
Maybe next week will be a better week. Sigh.