My friend called me on my mobile to see how I was feeling. I had the phone on silent so I missed the call. An hour later I noticed it flashing and listened to her message.
‘Hope you’re feeling better. I did come round to see you but there was no reply when I rang the bell.’
It seems when I’m writing I turn stone deaf. Near the end of the message she breaks up but I feel sure I hear her say ‘I’ve left (breaks up) outside your door.’
It can only be chocolate right? She knows what an addict I am. I dash downstairs, turn the front door handle only to find the door is locked. I then remember I had asked my stepson when leaving the house if he could lock it after him as I don’t like being in the house with the door unlocked. I go to dash upstairs to fetch my keys. I’m so desperate for this chocolate now that I am shaking. I didn’t feel the need for a sugar rush until I knew the sugar was there, now I can’t stop thinking about it. I reach the top step and freeze. I don’t have keys. I gave them to my stepson so he could drive my car. I can’t get out. I’m a prisoner in my home. I’m under house arrest and what’s worse right outside that locked door is chocolate. This has to be my worst nightmare.
Chocolate so close but so far away. I actually start thinking of other ways I can escape my home. Can I squeeze through a window? Can I wave crazily from the window and attract the attention of a passing parent on their way to the school? I should have trained Bendy to fetch, damn it. I even consider making a makeshift net and hanging from the bedroom window with it in the hope of retrieving said chocolate. It then occurs to me I can climb over the back wall. The problem is at 3 in the afternoon all the parents will be lined up along that very wall. Maybe not such a good idea. You’ll be pleased to know that I pulled myself together and didn’t phone the fire brigade. You can laugh but it did enter my head. Twenty minutes later I rush down again when I hear my stepson return. My chocolate fest is near. I open the door and come face to face with a huge bouquet.
‘Someone left these for you,’ he says.
‘Where’s the chocolate?’ I ask.
Stepson and wife look at me like I’ve gone crazier than normal.
‘Should we have bought some?’ they ask.
I trundle back upstairs for a quiet weep.