'Cause I threw away the key. Well, close. So I've been running [consistently!] the past few days, and when I go running, I attach my key to my bra with a hair tie (also works well for when you don't want to carry a whole set of keys to go out, and your pants don't have pockets.) When I come home, I unlock the door and put my key on the table.
This morning, I woke up and all the furniture had been moved in the living room, so the whole floor was clear in the middle. Not that our furniture's hard to move, it was mostly the coffee table, consisting of a piece of plywood with a large towel over is as a tablecloth. And, my roommate's boyfriend's shoes and shirt were strewn about. They're on fall break today and tomorrow.
So I get ready for work, and hastily leave in case Roomie's door opens. And Since my key's not on the table, it must be on the keyring, and my roomie leaves at noon to go home. At noon-twenty, I get home and realise, "shit. My key's inside. Wait, so's my phone. And the Landlady's phone number." Visions of spending the night on the landing, wandering around town when everybody's gone, and trying to sneak into the SRC to shower during fall break flash through my head.
I round the corner, and there's the Landlady, in her van, about to leave, just checking something on a piece of paper. Flagging her down, she unlocks the door, crisis averted. The key had fallen underneath the table, and the coffee table had been returned to its rightful spot.