wine and cheap perfume

I am currently locked IN my apartment, because the door will not open. I have tried sliding the key under the door for a neighbor to open it, and that didn't work. The super, the maintenance guy and a locksmith have all been diligently plowing away at the door to no avail for the past two hours. When the super first arrived (via the fire escape), he started gently punching the doorknob with his bare hand. I'm not sure what he was trying to achieve by doing so, and soon after he started vigorously rubbing the patch of wall immediately to the door's left. Perhaps he's an aspiring masseuse, and he viewed this as an opportunity to explore new moves. I have been a walking disaster lately. It all started yesterday when I slammed a book closed on my bare tit. I was reading Frank McCourt's newest memoir shirtless on the couch when I realized I was late for work. So I closed the book on my nipple, and yelped as I tried to pull the book away, which managed to still have a hold on my breast. On Monday night, I tumbled down an entire flight of stairs. I've taken to drinking a lot lately because I'm sad and that's what people do when they're sad, and after ingesting two bottles of wine and a lot of vodka, I did three full somersault rotations down the rickedy winding staircase before landing in a crumpled heap at the base of the stairs. I now have an enormous bruise on my ass, bruises all over my back, and bruises marking my legs with the regularity of dalmation print. No thanks.