I had the most unfortunate morning ever. Let me add some back story.
My driver-side car door is a bit dodge. The catch thing (very technical) that locks the door sits really low and sometimes the door locks it’s self if you slam the door too hard. However, I only use the car on the weekend and I’ve been on holiday for a week so this slipped my mind. (can you see where this is going?)
Anywhooo. I set off for work, and the car started pulling a bit to one side. The car had been sat on the drive for a week so maybe I should have checked the tires and junk before setting off, but that’s Husbind’s work (which is why it never gets done lololol) I debated whether I should stop or not for like 2 miles, then finally conceded. I pulled up a bit lob-sided on the main road and got out of the car. I had a moment of clarity: if I left the engine on, by the time I’d stopped faffing about, the car would be toasty warm and I could continue my journey with feeling in my feet.
I got out of the car and shut the door to keep in any potential heat. And, yes, the back right tire was perilously low and would need pumping up. It occurred to me then that I had no idea how to do it, and would need to be a big girl and drive home and get the Husbind out of his Super Man pyjamas. I pulled on the handle to open the door… and the door locked.
So there was Oliver, (I name things) my lovely, filthy, Punto, parked wonky on the main road -half over someone’s drive, did I mention that?- with indicator clicking and engine running. With my bag and mobile phone locked inside it. What an actual cock.
I panicked a bit, realising just how hopeless human beings are without their phones, then made the 2 mile walk back home to the Husbind in my shitty work shoes that fall off because they’re too big.
The immense stupidity of the whole situation dawned on me when as I was walking, and I howled to myself, and got some funny looks.
After Husbind saved the day, I pegged it to work and only ended up 7 minutes late. And got some early morning cardio in to-boot.