Of Locked Doors and Open Windows

Almost exactly ten years ago, I did a blog post about defining moments. I explained them as:

Those unexpected moments that come from nowhere and hit you like a brick; that alter your life or your perspective and change your course – or steady it; moments you can pass right through without realizing their significance until much later; moments that give you parts of yourself and show you who you are and what you’re made of.

I had a defining moment this morning. Actually, I think I had an epiphany. It wasn't pretty. And I had it while my ass was, literally, hanging out of my bedroom window (I told you it wasn't pretty).

Allow me to backtrack for you... 

This morning started like every other Saturday. Finn woke me up, ready and raring to go to the park. Since it was raining, I figured the arboretum in the next little town over would be empty, which meant he'd be able to run and I'd be able to get some exercise myself. So I threw on some shoes, yanked a baseball cap over the unruly mess that is my hair upon waking, and grabbed my wallet and a car key I needed to return to my office (I was too tired last night, after a late group activity, to bother going in to return it when I picked up my car).

It is important to note here that it was the only key I picked up. 

And then I left the house with Finn in tow, locking the front door behind me.

My keys - including the ones to my car and my house - were still in my purse... inside... the house... the front door to which was now locked. 

So there I stood with my dog, on my front porch, in the rain, with no way to get into my car or my house. Finn ran to the car as if to say, "Come on, Mama! Let's get in!" 

Oh, would that we could, my fine fuzzy fellow. Oh, would that we could. 

After uttering a few choice words, I double-checked the places I have left spare keys in the past, knowing full-well they weren't going to be there, since I'd had to use them on previous occasions when I'd locked myself out. Note that on those occasions, I counted myself as quite smart for having the forethought to hide spare keys. 

There was no counting this morning. 

I thought about how I'd planned to give a spare key to my neighbor... but didn't. I thought about how the only spare keys I had, beside the ones, you know, inside my house, were in the possession of  family members, all between 25 and 45 minutes away. 

Did I mention that it was raining?

I stood there, getting wet, with my dog staring up at me in confusion, contemplating my dilemma and how I was going to solve it. I remembered how Ryan once had to climb through her bedroom window when she'd gotten locked out. Then I thought about how Ryan's bedroom window is at the front of the house, facing the street. Then I thought, oh hell no. So I trekked to the back yard, which is where my bedroom window faces. Since the yard is on a slight incline, my window is a bit higher up than the ones at the front. I found something to stand on and was able to open the window (window lock? What window lock? Oh, that window lock). But I wasn't up high enough to hoist myself through the opening (not without doing real and possibly permanent physical damage, anyway). 

The cats, having heard strange sounds (and probably some swearing) had ventured into my bedroom and were now sitting on the bed, watching me figure this out. 

I went to the shed to see what I could find. Tucked into the corner, behind the lawnmower and bins of camping equipment, was an old ladder (by the looks of it, one my dad probably brought over from Scotland). I dragged it out and propped it up against the house. 

This could work.  

And it did. I climbed up, opened the screen and the window, shooed the cats off the bed to keep them from escaping, and then I... well... I sort of dove in. 

Now I am actually a fairly graceful diver - from a board into a swimming pool - but, sadly, the same cannot be said for the way I dove this morning, through an open window, from the ladder to my bed (which, thankfully, is positioned against the window wall). And as I lay there, ass-end up, half-in and half-out of my window, soaking wet, in pain (bruises already beginning), probably looking very much like Winnie the Pooh after too much honey...

I thought to myself, Diane, you have reached a new low. 

And as I lay there, imagining what I must look like from behind (no pun intended), I laughed.

Then I hauled my fat, nearly 55-year-old ass the rest of the way through that damned window (without Rabbit's help, thank you very much), grabbed my keys from my purse, locked the front door (again), and took my dog to the park for a walk in the rain. 

On that walk, I realized that this situation - this entire situation, from start to finish - is such a clear representation of the clusterfarkle that is my life. It highlights so much of what is holding me back - lack of preparation, lack of follow-through, lack of attention to... well, to everything. Locked doors, man.

But on the other hand...

I realized that it also highlights problem-solving skills, a willingness to do what it takes to sort crap out (even if it hurts, which it did), the ability to use the resources at hand, and - possibly most important of all - the capacity to see the humor through the frustration. Open windows.

Defining moments tell you who you are. Frankly, I'm a farking mess. I'm tired. I'm frustrated. I'm seriously fed up with all the garbage Life keeps throwing at me. 

But you know what? I can get shit done when I need to. 

And now it's time to get shit done, my friends. 

XO,