Когда я жила дома, частенько забывала ключи. Из...

When I lived at home, I often forgot the keys. I got out of the situation simply: I climbed onto my balcony through the neighbor's. They have a common railing, and although the floor was the 9th, with certain sports training and a normal vestibular apparatus, this is a simple matter. The neighbors were also people who understood: they learned that I was climbing and calmed down. Then the situation changed, and I had to rent an apartment. I rented it in a new building on the 14th floor. And already on the second day, in the best traditions, I forgot the keys. On this day, we celebrated something with our old friends, and, as usual, were somewhat stressed. I return to the freshly rented apartment, go to the door and understand that I forgot the keys. Well, out of habit, I’m ringing at a neighbor’s door. A man opens: as luck would have it, he looks very much like my former neighbor. His apartment from the inside is also exactly the neighbor's one (after all, the typical layout and the typical mentality do their job). And in my drunken mind there is a closure. I grunted: “Dobrr-cher”, unceremoniously remove the taken aback man and with the words “Well, as usual,” I move across the apartment to the balcony. A man rushes after me and tries to grab by the clothes. I reassure him, "Don’t worry, for the first time, or what?" At the same time, throughout my Brusilovsky breakthrough through the apartment, I comment on the mismatch between the interior and the familiar neighbor: “Oh, they put a rug - it's high time (walking through it in boots);” Oh, did you buy a new TV? Well, and how - well shows? "and so on ... And I myself open the door and crawl out onto the balcony. A lot of things are piled up there. I scoop them up, periodically pushing back the guy who is behind me and trying to drag me from the edge. Finally, when I reach the railing, I’m in the last time I detach myself from a man and with the words “Why are you really worried something like that?” I’m moving outside and along the ledge, holding onto the railing with my hands, as usual I’m moving to my balcony. he looks after me with huge eyes, I make him a pen and, saying goodbye, I give out something like "I’ll go and see what is in the refrigerator."
In fact, it was all a perambula. The ambula came the next morning, when I woke up and left my new apartment to work. At that moment, when I was locking my door, the door of the next apartment opened, and the same yesterday’s man came out of her - in a cop uniform !!!
Epilogue: Everything ended well. This is evidenced even by the fact that the details of my behavior in the neighboring apartment were told to me by her owner himself (who, by the way, turned out to be a local district police officer) during an emotional conversation over a mug of seagull.