A ha ha ha ha. Just had to bring you lot this funny story from last night. I am super tired at the moment after giving up caffeine on Tuesday (more on that another time) and also from working late nights and weekends for the last couple of months in the lead up to my huge Wednesday deadline (we’ve been working on this project for a year and it’s getting to the sharp end of the stick). So, here goes.

Left work at about 6.30pm last night and wandered like a zombie around the supermarket. My husband’s been away for a few days (returning this afternoon) so I wanted to make sure it wasn’t Old Mother Hubbard when he returned. Got home with the intention of eating some dinner in front of the telly and getting an early night before work in the morning. It didn’t go quite to plan. I ended up wandering the streets in my jim jams!

Had eaten dinner and cleaned up and tied up the rubbish to take out. No sooner had I let go of the door handle and a sinking feeling came over me… I’d locked the door behind me. On auto pilot, I’d just done what I do when I leave for the gym in the morning. Except when I leave for the gym I have all my stuff with me including my diabetes ensemble, keys and phone, plus am not dressed in my pyjamas.

So, I’m well and truly locked out. It’s the middle of winter so all our windows are shut. My husband once locked himself out and undid the window above the cat door which he climbed through, so we put a lock on it after that, so that option is not available to me.

So, I assess my options.
1. Smash a window. I’m too much of a wuss actually, and also I don’t fancy having an exposed side of the house for the rats or other surprise creatures to run in! Also I have to work from 9am and don’t have time to wait for a glazier.
2. Go over to the neighbours in my jamies and call our friends down the road who have a spare key. No – too embarrassed to turn up on the neighbours’ in my jamies.
3. Put my shoes on and walk 15mins to our friends’ and hope they’re home.

I choose option 3 but before I go I take my jamie bottoms off and turn them inside out in the vain hope they won’t look like jamies. They still do.

15 mins later I’m in our friends’ warm lounge giggling my head off, thankful that I missed the rain which is now chucking it down outside.

Things I have to be thankful for:

1. I’d not taken my insulin and left my dinner on the table for eating after putting out the rubbish.
2. I’d put a hoodie on over my pyjama top as I needed a pocket to put the Dexcom in.
3. There was a spare pair of shoes by the front door (I’d been in my slippers)
4. It wasn’t overly cold, and we weren’t in the middle of one of those ripper storms we’ve been having.
5. I live a few kms out of town and there are not too many people who would recognise me if they saw me.
6. It can be a bit hippy-like around where I live so my pyjama bottoms may have been mistaken for hippy atire.
7. Our friends were home.
8. They didn’t have visitors.
9. They hadn’t misplaced our spare key.

My post dinner blood sugars were a bit high when I finally got home and did a blood test but all I can say is I’m glad I didn’t go low. I am sure at that point I would have just swallowed my pride and headed to the neighbours, but shaaaame!

Hope that gave you guys a giggle.