Let me in!

Did you see a girl in an oversized sweater and red chinese beaded bedroom slippers streaking through the halls today?

Yeps, it was me.

Bloody hell, I locked myself out of my room for the second time.

Due to the "Please keep your doors locked all the time. Monash is not responsible for any loss of personal belongings bla bla bla. Even if you leave your room for "just a minute", LOCK YOUR ROOM" notices (Hee, yeah, I actually stood outside of my room to copy down the notice for this =p) pasted EVERYWHERE, I am paranoid enough lock my room whenever I step out of my room. Be it washing my hands, taking water from the pantry, taking a pee, my room is always locked shut like a dungeon.

I happily brought my fork and spoon to the pantry for a little washing (so what, I am a hygiene freak), and when I whistled, fine fine, I can't whistle, hummed right to my door, then, to my horror, I realised that my keys are not with me. A little jiggling of my lock confirmed my fears, the door WAS locked.

So what did I do? I made history repeat itself. Just like the last time that I locked myself out, with a head hung low, I knocked fearfully on my neighbour's door. Just like the last time, Thomas lent me his keys, so I could actually get out of the bloody building. Like the last time,I also took his sweater, for I was only in a thin T-shirt at that time, as I needed to run to the operations office to get a pair of spare keys.

Freaking humiliating k.

And the most ironic thing was, just yesterday, I laughed at Kit Mey for locking herself out for the third time in a week.

I think I have to take extreme measure to ensure that there is no third time for me.

Like soldering the keys to my chest.