Since sometime over the weekend, the outside security door (the one allowing anyone from the foyer-area to enter the building) in our 1960's apartment building has been stuck on buzz-to-let-someone-in mode. I mean constantly. As if someone was standing at his front door just holding it down or some blasted kids (and they're around, sticking their gum to the lobby wall en masse this summer) taped it down. Jon and I walked in shaking our heads. I am paranoid in general, making sure the apartment door is always double locked even when just going to get the laundry and that the chain is on when everyone is home. I was pretty irritated by this breach in security because that meant the lock, deadbolt and chain were all that separated us from all the serial killers prowling around suburbia.
Today there was a sign posted from the management company saying several people have complained about the door and there is nothing wrong with the system, except that the buzzer in somebody's unit is stuck in the down position. It asked that we all check our units to make sure it's not ours.
I went upstairs, took off my coat, put my purse on the ottoman and hung up my keys. Then I looked at our personal intercom, with its set of TALK, LISTEN and DOOR buttons that have been so well-used that the raised, once-gilded letters are worn in the center and barely legible. I gasped. DOOR was jammed under the edge of the intercom frame opening. Free-for-all entrance to our building since Sunday and it was all my fault! In my haste to let my parents enter, I didn't notice that the button hadn't popped back out after I held it down. And I hadn't thought to look earlier, because, duh, I could never be that stupid. Just to be sure, I walked all the way downstairs. The buzzer was a-buzz no longer.
There is certainly some bad karma coming my way. Because for nearly three days, I was cursing the doofus who doesn't understand how an intercom system works and put all of us at risk for intruders.