Locked Out

Well, we had some domestic drama yesterday.

Rain was in the forecast, so I hadn't intended to take the dog on any long walks. But we got a break in mid-morning and she was getting antsy, so I decided to quickly walk her around the neighborhood. I grabbed my umbrella and Olga and set out.

Dave was home, so I wasn't especially careful about what I took with me, and only after I'd closed the front door did I realize I didn't have my house keys or my phone. (The door locks automatically when you close it.) I rang the doorbell, but he didn't answer. I figured he must be in the living room, at the back of the house, wearing his noise-cancelling headphones.

This gave me pause, but I decided to just walk the dog and then hopefully, by the time I got back, Dave would be able to hear the doorbell. So that's what I did. About half an hour later, I was back at the front door, ringing -- but no Dave. I rang and rang. I stood there for what seemed like an eternity, Olga looking at me quizzically, like, "Why don't you just open the door like you always do?"

You can imagine how frustrating it was to know Dave was inside but unable to hear me. And of course, I couldn't even text him on the off chance that he'd see or hear my message.

Finally, seething with anger, I tied Olga to the front porch railing, walked to the side of the house, carried one of our heavy trash bins to the garden gate, climbed up on the bin and hoisted myself over the top of the gate. I got covered with dirt and drenched with rainwater from the shrubbery and the bin. I came to the back door where Dave could easily see me through the glass, looking as disheveled as Bigfoot. He opened it, completely confused. (And of course by this time he had his headphones off.)

I proceeded to stomp around, cursing and venting. I acknowledged right away that the situation wasn't all his fault, and said I was angry at myself too, but that it was infuriating to be unable to reach him when I needed him. I took a shower and put on clean clothes, and that calmed me down a bit. Then Dave and I talked. He was genuinely puzzled and hurt that I would blame him at all. After all, I'd forgotten my keys and my phone. This led to a whole conversation about the nature of anger and its expression. I told him I understood it wasn't rational, but anger isn't rational or intellectual. It's animal. I just had to let it out.

After a few hours, it all seemed kind of ridiculous, and we were able to laugh about it. Then last night, we were watching "Big Little Lies" when one of the characters said, "This is what families do -- we get angry with each other, then we get over it." I pointed at Dave, and said, "There you go!"

Anyway, next time I'll remember to bring my keys whether Dave is home or not.

In the process of hoisting the rubbish bin up the garden steps and positioning it next to the gate, I broke off a stalk of some kind of campanula that grows wild in our side alley. I put it in a vase on our kitchen windowsill (top). It's a nice flower but we almost never see it under normal circumstances, because we never use that part of the side alley. Looking at the blossoms close up, I'm amazed at how hairy they are.

While walking Olga on the high street, I saw this print in the window of our local Oxfam charity shop. I went back and bought it later in the day. It's called "Under the Water Lillies" by UK artist Becky Blair. Isn't it great?

So at least something good came from that ill-fated dog walk.

I spent most of yesterday afternoon reading "Outside Looking In," by T. C. Boyle, a novel about the early years of LSD experimentation under Timothy Leary at Harvard. It's an excellent book. I may finish it today. I'm not sure I'd recommend it to kids at school, but it's good for the adults!