maria, the key!

Like Roberto Benigni in La Vita e Bella, I depend upon someone to open the door. Imagine the horror when no one answers.

Yesterday I hung out at Karl's office while my family went to Alabang. I went home early because I wanted to nap badly (my parents were making a racket cooking in the kitchen the previous night and early morning). Guess what? No one was home, and I didn't have a key (they never issued us one for monitoring purposes).

I was sobbing horribly on the porch and called to demand that they go home. It took them an hour to actually leave Alabang. Karl, Don Jan and Liza came to my rescue even earlier and whisked me off to Domi's Tomas Morato apartment. When I came home, no one even apologized.

Can you fucking believe it? If they didn't want to give us the privilege of having a key, then they are always responsible for letting us in and giving us access to the house. What they overlooked cost almost three hours of precious sleep, which I only needed due to their nonstop noise the past night. That's pretty irresponsible.

It's time to take matters into my own hands. I am finally duplicating the key to our house. I borrowed my sister's copy, which, in fact, was also produced on the sly. So nevermind. I'm not asking if I can have a key. I'm taking it.