From the monthly archives:

January 2018


by Marinka on January 28, 2018

No, those aren’t my measurements.

If you must know, that’s the combination to my new combination lock which comes with its own set of problems.

I started going to the gym recently, the local Y, because it’s less than two blocks away from me and because apparently according to “science” exercise is good for the human body and my newest goal is to live for a really long time and be in good enough shape to fully enjoy Trump’s incarceration and by “Trump’s” incarceration I mean Donald’s, Donald Jr.’s, Eric’s, Ivanka’s, Jared’s, and any and all horses that they may have ridden in on and by “incarceration” I mean “jailed.”

So going to the gym is all sorts of complicated because first you have to find the ID card that was issued to you during happier times. And by “happier times,” I mean when Barack Obama was President and the United States was a superpower instead of a super embarrassment.

Fortunately, my ID card was attached to my keychain, so I was obviously distraught that I didn’t have that excuse to stay out of the gym for another decade or so. But then I couldn’t find a combination lock, or, more accurately, I couldn’t find a combination lock to which I knew the combination. I have plenty of locks that are locked forever because I have no clue what the combination is. I asked my kids if they knew the combinations, in case they were secret savants, but they had no idea and then when I asked my sixteen year old son if I could borrow his combination lock, he said “sure, but I don’t know what the combination is” which was an excellent way to lay to rest any questions of whether I am his biological parent. This may be a good time to tell you that one time, many years ago, I actually went through the whole rigamarole (whoa! That’s a real word, apparently) to retrieve the lost/forgotten combination which involved sending a signed and notarized statement to the MasterLock company swearing that you are the proud owner of the lock and cannot remember the combination and then, a few weeks later, they send you the combination. This is a wonderful time in a lock owner’s life and leads to much rejoicing, and if you’re me, an almost immediate loss of the combination that has been so recently reclaimed.

So I did what any normal person would do and for a while used a locker at the Y without a lock. This was a risk, I knew, but I am nothing if not devout and I just couldn’t imagine a world where the Lord would permit both (a) Trump to be president and (b) my locker would be burglarized. Although this is totally sound thinking, I still spent most of my workout session in fear that someone would open my locker and steal something or throw my keys away or something. And I had to bring my keys with me because my YMCA ID is on the keychain. What, you already forgot that?

The whole experience was absolutely nerve wrecking because how could I enjoy a workout that would launch my career as a fitness model when I was about to lose my keys and my YMCA ID as well as membership loyalty cards to various superstores that were attached to my keychain? This led to my checking in on my locker throughout my workouts with a frequency that signaled to the locker room attendants that I was storing a small child on the top shelf.

It was exhausting and unsatisfying and not just because no one bothered to try to steal anything from me, which in and of itself is offensive.

And then a miracle happened and I bought a lock:


I bought this one because it was different and I thought that since my history with the traditional locks wasn’t great, I would give this one a shot.

In the days that followed, I had to field a number of questions, including, but not limited to the following:

Why would you ever buy a lock without numbers?
Are you a complete idiot?
I know you said you tried twice to the right and twice up, but did you do it in the right order?
Are you sure you’re not a complete idiot?
Were they out of normal locks?
Is it possible that you’re a partial idiot?
You just picked it because it’s purple, didn’t you?

The problem was that no matter what I did, I could not get the lock to open, which, it turns out is a big negative where locks are concerned. But equally as worrisome was the fact that other people that I showed the lock to were able to open it, so it raised a whole bunch of questions about my well-being that no one wanted to address without professional assistance.

Finally after a few weeks of this nonsense, which were so stressful that I could not even think about exercising, I bought a real lock.

And then I started to come up with smart ways to remember the combination.

“Let’s see, 5-35-13,” I thought out loud, “Well, the 13 part is easy because I live on 13th street. And 35 is not a great challenge, because, hey, I’m not 35 anymore! And come to think of it, I’m not 5 anymore either, so done and done!”

Can you think of a problem with the “not a certain age anymore” memory trick? Because I couldn’t until I pushed the lock shut which was the moment that I realized that having celebrated my 50th just last March (gifts still being accepted, but don’t wait too long!) there are forty nine ages that “I am no longer.”

So the only solution is to post my combination here. And hope that Mueller hurries up.

{ 1 comment }