i'm not homeless

i was still groggy, i had just woken up after all, sleepily shifting into the kitchen, water, quenching my thirsty, i hear the mewing of the alley cats that live under the house
as i enter the "cat room" i observe a stand-off, indoor cats hissing at the large black cat outside the glass door waiting expectantly for me to let him in or at the very least feed him
i lock the indoor cats out of the "cat room" for fear that big black beast will find his way in without my invitation and i move slowly to pick up the cat food container. my objective was to feed the beast, and keep him outside.
i wasn't fully awake, no glasses or contacts, no shoes, just me and my undies and my crazy hair, oh, and the box of food
i quickly opened the door and stepped outside, closing the door securely behind me so the black beast wouldn't get in.
blast
i immediately checked the door as i closed it, blast, it was locked
i had to start laughing, i had to. if i didn't laugh i would cry, and it was just too funny to cry. i stood at the door in shock for a moment, calling the energy into my head as i stood there, in my undies, locked out of the house that wasn't mine, in a neighborhood that, wasn't mine. blast.
the owner said she had hidden a spare key, in the front yard, of course. i checked through the gate first and then slid through to the front, completely aware that i would appear to be that woman, you know, the one that walks around in her underwear in plain daylight. blast those cats. and wouldn't you know that she hid the key under "one of the clay pots" of which there are around a million, small ones easily moved, and huge ones that require a good ole squat maneuver to minutely shift. i hated her at that moment, the squatting girl in her undies, in the front yard of a neighborhood that wasn't hers. i was on the lookout, this was a community neighborhood with lots of walkers/runners/riders, who knew who was around the corner?!
a man was approaching on bike as i contemplated sitting at the chair on the porch and acting nonchalant as i waved and crossed my legs as though it was normal for me to be half-naked on the porch. isn't that a usual morning ritual? but my impulses kicked in and had me running to the back, what a sight i must have been. alas.
i didn't find the spare key, i think it was a lie. so i faced the facts. i could die outside of heat exhaustion, or, i could walk to the neighbor's house and see if anyone had a spare. could i pull off the underwear look? i imagined that if i walked with enough confidence no one would dare question my apparel. but i didn't have the confidence for that so i scoured the yard to find something to wrap around me, or at least hold in front of me.
the only wearable lawn ornament happened to be a cat pee soaked, cement crusted, paint spilled old towel near the cat food. the thought of it wrapped around my body was less than comforting, but the thought of walking down the street in my undies was even more disconcerting. so i wrapped it in african style and took the walk of shame to the neighbors
i heard them from outside, reading i think. i knocked, he answered, i spoke, "i'm not homeless, i'm sorry, i locked myself out in my underwear and this is all i could find, do you have a spare key for the carter's house?"
he was amused, standing there in his nice house coat. what a classy man. he had a spare.
i thanked him and told him i would return upon dressing
i returned to his house with human clothes on, shoes, my glasses, pulled up my hair, you know, to try to pull off a normality that i hadn't presented before. i told him i figured i'd either die of heat or humiliation. he voiced that he would much rather me die a death of humiliation

i agree