When I came home from brunch with Sam today, Pam told me that she had a surprise for me, so I spent at least two hours going around the house, asking for clues and verifying that it wasn't the extra cheddar bay biscuit on the table, Evee with a bath, or the Wii hooked up downstairs.
It was none of these.
Her only clue was that it wasn't technological and that I wouldn't get it until I was experiencing it.
So it wasn't a hack on my Facebook, as it always is, and it wasn't the drawer in the bathroom being fixed. When I ran in there and opened it confidently, the side fell off like it usually does, and I had to yell that I broke it again.
I eventually gave up and plopped onto my bed. When Pam came by again, she told me that I wouldn't figure it wouldn't figure it out anyway because I'm Georgette, and she thought I'd miss it. She did say that Evee was giving me a clue, so I got up to investigate.
Evee laid down in my doorway, so I looked at Evee again. Not a bath. My doorway. Above it was my Norton Juster poster. My doorway. My door?
My I swung it closed. A door lock!
It took two hours to figure that out.
Since the move, my room has been the only bedroom without a lock on it, and despite my efforts to encouraging knocking, it really isn't working. Some people think that knocking and then immediately coming into the room is perfectly okay. Some people also now know what I look like dishabille. So a lock was a God's send.
Later that night, when I went to change for bed, I swung my door closed, secure and unashamed now with my trusty new lock in the door.
Only, my door doesn't stay closed now. The lock's too small.
Pam also found the broken drawer parts on the bathroom floor and lectured me about it. Well, that's just her surprise back.