While I am an ultimate athlete, my dear friend is...a ninja.A ninja with secret moves.
Wednesday is one of my favorite days of the week because of the long-standing tradition..."Women's Support Group." This is not the actual title of the evening, it's actually called "Wednesday Night Dinner." Tomato, tomoto.
With three days of running under my belt (back on the wagon) for the purpose of being able to tighten my belt (sorry, bad word play) I planned a run date with one of the "WND" gals before dinner. With much strategerie, I put my front door key (what I thought was the key for the front door) on my shoelace. I don't even like holding things when I'm standing or walking, much less running. Off we go. Running on the pier is lovely and the waves are a sight (the swell is gnar would be the translation for people that actually surf). We return to my home and realize that the only door we will be opening with the key I have tied to my shoelace, goes to the complex laundry room.
Good looking neighbor attempts to assist, in fact even allows me to call my drug lord, excuse me land lord, and leave a message. Shocker, she doesn't answer her phone. Good thing I'm just locked out and not drowning in a plumbing-related flood!
Ninja (aka a college roommate and bestie) decides we should check out my side yard situation. With ease she hops the gate leading to it. Note: There is a separate key to this side yard gate, but it is also hanging on the adorable "Welcome" sign in the entry way INSIDE my apartment. I suppose I could do laundry if I want though, that's nice. I watch the Ninja from behind the maroon gate bars. I consider myself a tenacious gal, up for anything, but the six inches my dear friend has on me definitely gives her an advantage to hoisting over this barrier, especially since all six of her extra inches are in her legs! As she gracefully sets her right leg over the top of the gate, I stand in confusion with my hips half a foot below its top.
Although the maneuver into the shower window flashes before my very eyes, I'm able to retell this epic event...
She steps onto a wicker table and with the useless key, shimmies off the screen. The green stool on the side of my house (why, I'm uncertain) is thrown into the very deep bathtub. Head first, she shakes down into the bathroom, grabbing the sink with her hands for support, and sliding in the remainder of her bottom half through the 15x15 window. My job is to cheer her on at this point...and laugh hysterically while passersby ignore the shenanigans. Shady activity isn't foreign in my hood.
Long story short, we (as in she) broke into my home within minutes of the lock out. Dinner was had and all were amused.
Steph, you truly are a Ninja with secret skills beyond most of us. If I ever have to appoint someone in charge of my life (like saving it for instance), you'll be hearing from me.
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