When you live alone, never, ever, under any circumstances, step even halfway out of the flat without your keys. Even if you are still standing half in the door to sign for a package, the wind tunnel in your flat will activate, the door will slam shut, and you will be stuck outside in your pajamas with no bra (in a sweatshirt, Danke Gott), no keys, no phone, and a delivery guy.*
The delivery guy (while being very nice), will not speak any English and will then have to attempt to break into your flat for you. You will learn that your windows are very secure and that there is “keine Chance” to break in through the window. This is slightly reassuring. Meanwhile, the “Katze” that stalks you from the balcony two flats down, is watching the show and meowing at you. You consider breaking him out of his balcony and sending him in to get your keys. But then you remember that bunnies are better for reconnaissance. Damn.
He, (the delivery man, not die Katze), will then indicate the door and speak German very quickly, wherein you are able to discern the words “Tür” and “kaputt.” And you will shrug your shoulders and say, “Ja, bitte.” Yes, delivery man, please break my door. Because I really wish I was wearing a bra right now.
Super Delivery Man will then back up the few feet to the railing, and throw his shoulder into the door like a member of a God-damn SWAT team. The door will bust open, your previous feelings of security in your flat will crumble, and you can now put on a bra.
The peasants rejoiced, danced, and made merry.
The good news is that I can still shut and lock the door, but it does not feel super-secure. It’s definitely kaputt, but it could definitely be worse. So I emailed my landlord, apologizing profusely, and hopefully we can get someone over to do something about it.
So that was my morning. How was yours???
*No, this was not the beginning of a pornographic film I once saw.