My husband was super excited to hand over his valeted, serviced 4×4 to me this week; with new wheels and tints. “Hurrah!” I cried; no more cramming Mason into the backseat and having to be careful with the amount I buy at Ikea!
So today, after hitting the mall to do some ESSENTIAL shopping, to say I was excited at the boot space was an understatement. The candles had plenty space to sit on their own without getting broken and there was ample room for the kitchen contraption that I bought (though to be honest, I am still not quite sure what it is for).
My 3 year old was pretty happy too, he didn’t have to balance bags on is lap all the way home. BONUS!
After loading up, I jumped in the car, reversed out the spot and suddenly the ‘car door open’ alarm started beeping away at me. Confused, I jumped out, realised the boot door was wide open and started my attempts to close it.
Trying to be cool and act like I knew what I was doing, I was focused on not letting the panic set in. This was made even more difficult as I was also trying not to focus on the woman sat (very helpfully) gesturing at me, in the car behind.
Jumping back in the car and reversing into a space, the thoughts were starting to explode in my brain;
How am I going to get back?
Oh God, my battery on my phone has just died
Why did Gary have to get the stupid car valeted in the first place?
You catch my drift!
I decided I needed to sort this out alone, instead of running crying to the security guard as I would normally. Trying to ignore the questions now ricocheting around the car from the 3 year old (why did I have to say something was broken?!) I decided to go with the flow of logical thought for once (hold your giggles)
Okay, so I need to keep the door closed, therefore I need to tie it with something
There’s a handle inside the boot, I bet I can tie something to that
Hurrah, it’s working, I am getting ideas….stay focused Kayleigh
Right, what is in the car?….nothing, because he had to get the car valeted this week didn’t he?!
Oh yes, my new bag has a long handle…ok it’s not ideal, but I bet it will work.
Running around to the car now, I opened the back door, unhooked the handle off my new bag and attempted to pull the seat forward to climb into the boot. The problem is, I have never even pretended to take an interest in learning how to do this task; hubby even showed me once, but I was too busy mentally sipping my wine to take any notice.
So there I was, already in a fluster over my predicament and now the seat wouldn’t move forward; no matter how many different ways I attempted to slam it forward whilst pulling the lever. Only one thing for it, I decided to climb over.
The problem is, the space between the chairs and the roof of the car looks a lot bigger than it actually is. Also, the chairs look a lot easier to mount than they actually are. So as I whipped my shoes off, threw my first leg over, the headrest embedded itself inside my crotch and I found myself pinned horizontally along the seats.
I then managed to swing the other leg round so I was almost in a star position and then propelled myself into the boot of the car. I am not graceful at the best of times, but landing on my chin and in a crumpled heap in the boot wasn’t my idea of a safe landing.
ok, you’re in…just brush it off.
Pulling myself together, I managed to find 2 loops in the car that I could tie the bag handle between; but to say I got frustrated at my attempts to hold the door shut is an understatement.
No matter how I pulled it, I couldn’t get the 2 hooks on the bag handle to click together and as a result I had tears welling in my eyes, gritted teeth and what was the start of an extremely sore chin.
Finally, I managed to get some sort of knot in there and with a quick ‘push test’, I decided it would do. Crawling back over into the car, I saw two men pull into the space next to me. Their facial expressions told me that I did indeed look like an idiot.
Now smarting with humiliation and pain spreading all over my body, I made the SLOW drive back home; attempting to avoid roundabouts, sharp bends and speed bumps. Of course, every route I chose had all 3 in quick succession and as a result the alarm continued to beep at me as the door swung open.
Due to the pressure of the situation, the alarm seemed to be growing louder and louder, until I had the urge to shout “Yes, I know my bloody boot is open, do you think I need reminding every 5 seconds?!” but you know….the 3 year old.
Finally home, my ears ringing from the alarm and 500 questions from the back; Mason decided to check the broken door out for himself.
“Just wait until I get the shopping out”….”okay, now watch, it won’t close”.
As I gave it the biggest slam imaginable (for effect), the clasp magically released and the door locked into place.
Now why didn’t I think of that before?