The One Where She Got Locked Out Of Her Own Home

Alright, I haven’t written a post about how stupid I can be in a long while. I got locked out of my house this morning. Nothing tragic. I slept over at my uncle’s house and didn’t tell my maid when I’m coming back. So I was left stranded. I wrote things in my notebook for company. It’s long. This is what I wrote verbatim as time passes, every thought recorded. Structure is horrid but it is what it is…

I am locked out from my own home. I think my maid is out at the market. The window’s closed. She’s going to be gone for a while I think. Now my phone is dead and there’s no battery left in it. I am sitting outside of the gate by the flower bed writing this because I don’t know how long I’ll have to wait and there is nothing save for the shadows and light to let me know what time it is. I think it’s eight or maybe nine am. Let’s say it’s eight thirty.

Like I said, I’m sitting outside of my own house looking like a very well-dressed and well-scrubbed homeless person. It’s Sunday morninga and the neighbourhood is quiet. Now and then I hear the murmur of cars easing out of driveways for their Sunday morning drives in tshirt and shorts. Inside grownups are sleeping in and kids are transfixed in front of their Sunday morning cartoons. But because the kids here are all grown up, I hear none of this save for the cars rumbling off in the distance and the soft trickling of water into gutters, milky white with toothpaste froth and grey bath water.

Now and then there are men riding in rusty bikes beckoning with their calls for used goods. Our Salvation Army comes in wheels. They’re like ducks, quacking their own distinctive calls for pieces of metal, wood or electronics they can salvage and sell.

I watch the stray cat hop from one garbage chute to another, nuzzling bags for scraps. The air was rather cool before but now my temples have started to warm up, which means it’s probably nine am now.

The neighbourhood security has passed by twice now, once on a bike and once on a motorbike. I think I look harmless enough. My pants look a little too fancy for someone who could possibly be breaking into a house. If not for my laptop I think I
can climb the gate. Wait actually i can climb over the gate with my laptop. Goddamn social decorum.

Okay the sun is in my face, warming up my eyelids which probably means time has passed. I am an idiot. I should’ve called from my uncle’s house to let her know I’m coming. I have yesterday’s orange tucked somewhere in my bag. I cannot survive on one bloody orange! When the sun is somewhere above my head the mall would be open and I can waste some time there instead.

The men next door are sanding wood or maybe sawing some pillar down. The empty house next door is no longer for sale. They’re knockign the entire house down and will probably build another bastion in its place. The maid across from our house asked me what I’m doing outside. I smiled. “She’s out in the market and I don’t have the house key so I’m locked out.”

The sun is in my face and I can see tiny fluttering wings of light on top of my eyelashes Like dragonfly wings. Like oil slick. I can see blues, reds, greens, yellows and sometimes turquoise. She is really going to be gone for a while. I have Heart of Darkness in my bag. I’ll go read.

I can’t read. Bloody sun is in my face.

Hey there’s an old silvery blue sticker on my gate. It says Tn Budi Hartowongso S with my address underneath. Budi means good behaviour. Harto means wealth. He must be good with money. I rubbed the flakes and it fluttered away. It’s old. Kinda icky. Why am I rubbing it?

The tukang sayur (vegetable seller) came by in his gerobak (cart) of vegetables attached to his bike. He asked what I’m doing sitting outside. He even offered to stay awhile to keep me company. “It’s okay I’m alright. you should go make your rounds. I’m fine on my own”. It’s hot he said, you’ll get dizzy with the heat and soon it’ll be noon. “No it’s nice and warm. I’ll be okay” He cycled away. I probably offended him. But dude I want to be left alooone.

Okay my ears are warming up fast. This is not that fun.

I’m looking at the gutter and there’s an entire ecosystem in there! At a glance you’ll see the black water rippling. Look closer and you’ll see it’s made of radial ripples of waves. As it dissipates you’ll see translucent little fishes hopping from here to there. They move so quickly, as though they teleport the short distances. There’s soooo many of them too. The water’s rather clear actually, not murky, save for the dark grey bottom layer of goo.

My foot is getting hotter. It’s close to 10. How long do you need to get to the market anyhow when you’re only cooking for two?

Back to the fishes, they’re really thriving in there eating, feeding on baby mosquito larvae.

Ah crap crap crap, I’m wearing pants made from some woolen material and a lock sleeved jersey top. It’s not possible to get heatstroke before 12 right?

I can’t read. The sun is still in my face. Idiot, the sun won’t move. I could sit in the neighbour’s flower bed where there’s shade but that would be even more creepy.

Did you know that when you throw pieces of orange peel into the gutter something pretty happens? The orange skin hits the water in bursts of rainbow swirls, coiling and changing colours till it fades into the dark grey. I think it must be the citrus oils. The water’s probably slightly alkaline with all the bathwater and it meets the citric acids and something sciency and cool probably happens. It’s just pretty and amusing when you have nothing else to do but write.

OKay it is getting hot. I can’t take it anymore I’m going to my aunt’s. Maybe dad left her a spare key. Her family should be awake by now it’s 10 something I think?

OKay her car is inside. The family’s home. I clang their lock. It’s too quiet inside. Maybe they’re asleep. and then I remembered Adit is in Singapore settling down in his new dorm and prepping for orientation. My aunt would be there. Crap.

I’m in KFC. No idea what time it is now. The sky’s a little grey. But the shadows on the cars are right underneath them in neat rectangles. Should be between 11 & 12 right? I think Indonesia’s the only place that serves rice in KFC. Their chocolate pudding is yummy and homey. The roads are busy, fueled with Sunday brunches in tummies and rolling their way back home.

This is what you get for coming back one day later, for not having your own key, for not calling home and for not bringing your phone charger with you. Yes mom ( I know you’ll read this eventually) you don’t need to scold me. I can do it myself now. Oh the perks of semi-independence.

I should be getting home. Can’t imagine where the public phone is around here. Can’t really smoke up a signal fire to check if anyone’s home. I don’t know morse code and I’m pretty sure it’s illegal. I used to think it’s pretty disgusting to have KFC literally within ever 500 M radius but it’s not that bad. Helps when you’re dying in the heat because of the sheeer stupidness of being locked out of your own damn home. I could actually go and cross the road towards the mall and call home. laaaaaaaaazy

Okay sun is out and from the tailing shadows on the cars, it’s still 11:30. It should be part of our nation’s curricullum to be able to tell the time using shadows. The art of shadow clocks are dying. We are breeding a generation of kids who checks the time through their handphone and in the even that their batteries die, they will be stranded and confused like me. No bloody idea if it’s morning, noon or night and the world as we know it would plunge into insanity.

okay crazy woman talking. Time to go home.

Before I left I stuck a random flyer on the crook of my gate so I know from far away if she came back. It’s gone now. She’s home! She knows i came earlier. The security guard told her some girl was sitting on the floor outside the front gate. She asked me if I waited for long. I laughed. I said no, it wasn’t that long. Oh Indonesian courtesy.