Trapped

I often find myself complaining that I feel trapped.  I make excuses for not going outside and my lack of exercising because I don’t feel comfortable because I already feel like enough of a spectacle always being stared and shouted at when I’m doing normal things; running wouldn’t be nearly the escape it should be it would be stressful. I suppose my house and my couch are my prison, but still a place that’s mine. 

Well the karma of all my complaining caught up with me when I made to leave for work yesterday.  I was trapped, not figuratively, but literally.  I stuck my key in but it wouldn’t turn; the lock was broken, I was locked inside my house.  I thought about shouting out my window to my neighbors, but no one was around who spoke English or French and could understand my plight.  I tried calling one of the people I work with, no answer… my program director?.. another colleague? Nothing…  Finally I broke out of my house, only sort of breaking down my door. 

Previously I had lost my key and I had broken into my house and now I was busting out.  It wasn’t too bad, but with the bolt still in the locked position I couldn’t really go to my meeting.  Thankfully, I finally got in touch with the ones I was to have the meeting with and they were very understanding and appeared only a few minutes later with a carpenter in tow.  I was saved!

My landlord’s wife came back a short time later.  “You got locked inside your house? Muhahahahahaha!”  Yeah, she laughed at me—I suppose it was a pretty funny situation.  I’ll have to watch what I complain about now, no more feeling trapped or out of touch, maybe I am “so tired of feeling like I eat ice cream all the time.”  I could be trapped with that.