Keira-anne.com

I am one of those rare people who thought that Zooropa was a gem of a record. One particular track is entitled “Some Days Are Better Than Others.” Preach it, Bono.

Sunday Night’s Plan: Feed the dogs at 6pm, shower, dress in clean and cozy pajamas, order Indian take-out and be in bed by 7pm to watched two hours of Deadwood before Amy arrives at 9pm to retrieve her beloved Peanut.

Here’s what really happened…

6pm: I set out three dishes, one for each pup. As usual, I proceeded to scoop out some wet food into each of the bowls. Suddenly I was hit with a sharp and cold feeling, figuring I’d knicked the can. I looked down at my hand, staring with interest, and realized that my knuckle was rockin’ an exquisite gash.

Instinctively, I ran my hand under cold water in preparation for paper towel and mega pressure. As the first bit of blood washed down the sink, I said to myself “hey, that kinda looks like bone.” I soon realized that the can lid went up and into the fleshy part covering my knuckle.

I first tried to get ahold of Rod in hopes he may have some gauze - no luck there. “This is bleeding pretty steadily…” I typed to Jen on Adium. I proceeded to actually sit on my hand in an attempt to apply enough pressure to stop the trickle.

7pm: One hour later and still bleeding a bit. Jen insisted on coming over with first aid supplies, and at this point, I didn’t argue. A three-hour wait in emergency for stitches sounded less than appealing.

Less than 45 minutes later, my Angel of Gauze appeared, and in no time at all I had cleaned the wound, sprayed the hell out of it with Bactine (a god-send, really; it’s a household must) and dressed it in gauze and medical tape. Finally, with my hand wrapped in a plastic shopping bag (save the lecture), I was able to shower.

8pm: Being that Amy would be over in an hour, and her and Jen had never met, I suggested that we get Indian together while we wait. Jen agreed in the splendidness of such an idea, and so we set towards the door in an effort to pick it up (along with a couple Diet Pepsis).

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed from the front door of the apartment. I looked over and saw that Jen was holding the actual door handle in her hand.

It was no surprise to me: the door in this apartment has long been too big for its frame, and getting it open takes a great deal of pulling and yanking. It was only a matter of time before the handle broke off. Except this time, the metal itself shattered.

8:30pm: You’d think that it would be as simple as removing the pins and opening the door, but as I stated above, the problem is the door itself. The mechanism was technically open, but the door was jammed so tight in the frame, that the only way to free us was by way of a good push from the outside.

I tried calling Rod again, I tried calling the front desk, I tried calling Jack. Rod was in Richmond, no one was “manning” the front desk and Jack wasn’t answering his phone. Awesome. Being that our only hope was Rod’s arrival back in the neighbourhood around 10pm (to catch the keycard from the 5th storey window), what else could two girls do? We put out a plea for help by slipping a note under the door.

9:30pm By this time, the Indian restaurant had already called three times, and a fourth on a different line, wondering if I was coming for my lamb roganjosh. I was hungry, frustrated and felt totally bad when I knew all Jen really wanted to do was go home and watch Oz. Really, I couldn’t blame her.

In a last-ditch effort, I tried the front desk again for the 10th time at about 9:45pm, and minutes later, we were free. Finally someone responsible came on shift. And so now, as it’s nearing my bedtime, this is as good as a closed door as I’m going to get tonight…

I can look at the broken handle on the dining table and the bloody gauze on my hand now and laugh. Events like this are hugely character-building and form unique bonds. I’m so grateful I had someone to share in the hilarity of it all. Whenever I am here, taking care of my two favourite furry boys, something always inevitably goes wrong. I’m just glad the predictable headache is over and done with and out of the way so early into my undertaking.

I think I’ll go order some Indian takeout now…