Dumbass

i love wind. it is refreshing and powerful and clean. it will also burrow an icy hole into your skin and blow your hair into your newly-applied lip gloss if you're not careful.

last night i went outside and sat on the front stoop to breathe in the 40 mph wind gusts. in the dark. in my underwear. "you're a dumbass," my husband said as he propped open the door and drove off on some boy errand. wind is his least favorite weather phenomena.

as soon as he pulled away, a big gust of wind blew the door shut. shit. i mean, shoot.

so what is the thought process of a highly-educated person who finds herself scantily-clad, locked out of her apartment without her purse, and shoeless in a city where she knows no one? first: whatever, aaron will be home soon. i went about my business of enjoying the wind -- surprised at how warm it was in the lulls between gusts. i checked out the stars above flag, the first international dark-sky city. i scared off the raccoons that emerged from the bushes. second: this is boring. i read the newspaper someone left on the stoop. i searched for and found the three constellations i can recognize. i pulled some weeds from the flower bed.

then: i really don't want it mentioned at my funeral that i froze to death on a stoop in my underwear. i reviewed in my mind every fact about hypothermia and frostbite i learned from reading call of the wild in 4th grade. i confirmed that my skin was not turning white. i tested out different parts of the yard for minimal wind exposure. i considered wrapping myself in the newspaper. i walked around the building, peering in windows, and confirmed what i already guessed from casing the parking lot: no one else was home. and as my teeth chattered uncontrollably: should i walk out to the highway in my undies? maybe someone will stop and let me use their cell phone without also sexually assaulting me?

that is when my law school education comes in handy and i remember necessity as a defense to trespass. (too little too late, you say? i'll take flashes of brilliance when i can get them...) i found 2 locked cars in the warehouse parking lot and headed back to the SUV belonging to apartment #6. that guy is weird and stinks and has a "nutcake" bumper sticker (???) but it looks like he lives out of that SUV so there must be a blanket or coat or sleeping bag or canoe in there. i came to apartment #4's sedan first -- SCORE. she apparently sees no reason to lock up her granola bars, sonic cups, and factory-issued tape deck. i borrowed the towel on the backseat and a handful of quarters from the dash and began my trek to the nearest pay phone.

thankfully, the shell station was closed, so i enjoyed some privacy from the drunk natives usually hanging around the phone booth, shivering in my makeshift towel skirt and bare feet. aaron, this is kelley. i'm locked out. yes, i'm calling from a pay phone. yes, at the shell station. yes, i walked here. yes, in my underwear.

i couldn't even look at aaron when he arrived to pick me up because i knew that if i did, i would bust out laughing hysterically at what an idiot i am and the drama queen side of me absolutely would not allow anything but mortification at my near-death experience, and although he never said it, the "i told you so" looming in the air.

finally, the epiphany: when did i start taking myself so seriously? the time for drama is over. i laugh at the time kim and i literally beat down our own christmas tree with what we thought was an axe but was in reality a splitting maul (explaining why our "axe" didn't actually CUT the tree). i laugh at the time i threw up gallons and gallons of peaches after spending a day canning them with rebekah. i laugh at the time i got sent to the principal's office for wearing a sign around school that read "i am a flaming bitch from the deep dark caves of hell." i'm sure you all are laughing at me right now too.

so i survived my evening in the wind with no permanent injury and returned apartment #4's things to her car (plus some bonus quarters!) without incident. this will be the last time i leave the apartment sans keys, cell phone and/or pants, but i'm sure not my last chance to laugh at myself... laughter which i will NOT be holding back. after 26 years, i'm (still) OK with dumbass.

blessed are those who can laugh at themselves, for they shall never cease to be amused.
{author unknown, courtesy of beav}