AnchorMommy

Hostage crisis

October 1, 2009 by Shannon

An inside look at the hostage crisis

My garage is holding me hostage. More specifically, my car is stuck inside my garage. Apparently a giant spring that has something important to do with holding the weight of the garage door is completely broken. Why it decided to do so on a day when I really needed a change of scenery is beyond me. 

Seriously — how can metal just randomly break like that?

But I digress. Did I mention I needed a change of scenery? Kellan and I spent much of yesterday at the house. We were both getting a little stir crazy, but I had to get some cleaning and laundry done. And I wanted to get Kellan to nap so I could finish a couple of freelance writing projects which are due today. Well, the nap didn’t happen. After 20 minutes in the rocking chair with him (yes, that’s the price I pay for a little quiet time and it doesn’t always work) he fell asleep, but instantly woke up after I put him in bed and would NOT go back to sleep. Exasperated, I reminded myself that I would get a little writing time around the dinner hour, when Michael took Kellan to visit his great grandpa. The plan was for me to drop Kellan off with Michael.

I packed up Kellan’s dinner and ukelele, which he insisted he would need for a performance at great grandpa’s house. I packed up my laptop and purse, envisioning myself typing away in a quiet coffee shop and obliterating my writing tasks. I strapped Kellan in his carseat, walked around to press the button on the automatic garage door opener and…..CRASH! The door raised about one foot off the ground and slammed shut with such force, it was as if the door was doing so intentionally, just to piss me off. I glared at the door. It glared back. I pressed the button again — nothing. Then I slammed the button with my fist and….crank, crank, crank, CRASH! Another forceful NO from the door.

The spring standing between my car and freedom

I decided to go around and look at the front of the house, thinking perhaps something bizarre had happened outside. Like maybe a tree had fallen on the door. But there was nothing. No tree. With Kellan safely out of earshot & still strapped in his carseat, I shouted a few choice words as I walked through the house on my way back to the garage. The shouting made me feel better, but I was still stuck.

Frantically, I called Michael to let him know I would not be meeting him as planned. He advised me to try a number of things to try and get it open — none of which worked — and finally told me to just call the garage door company. Genius! I crossed my fingers that they would tell me a simple fix over the phone.

They did not.

I think the woman on the other end was quite amused at my misfortune. I told her about the garage door’s maddening behavior and she replied, “Ooooh. Sounds like you have a broken spring. There should be a big spring above the door. That’s probably broken.” I looked, and she was right. It was definitely broken, and she definitely did not have any quick fix. “I can send someone out there tonight, but you’re gonna pay overtime. Best I can do is have someone over tomorrow afternoon, sometime between 12 and 5.” 

The close-up look at a wimpy piece of metal

Admittedly, I was not the most pleasant person to be on the phone with at that point. Kellan was crying, wondering why I was taking him out of his carseat and not downtown to meet his daddy, as promised. I admit — I was rather short with the garage door woman as I gave her my name and address. Who can blame me? I had just found out my garage would be holding my car hostage for at least 24 hours, and I had a screaming toddler to console. My hands were covered in grease from checking the door’s tracks. I was not in the best of moods. And I could just hear the smirk in her voice. I can send someone out there tonight, but you’re gonna pay overtiiiime….

But perhaps the most maddening thing of all is the noise that door is now making. It is squeaking incessantly. A cold front has moved in, which means there’s a lot of wind right now (can you tell I used to be a weekend weathergirl?) and with every gust, the door lets out a whiny screeeeee noise. Sheesh. As if it has something to whine about. My garage is holding an entire car hostage and all I can do is wait.

And wait. And wait.