Locked out
Last night I locked myself out of my aunt’s house. On any other night it wouldn’t be a big deal; I could ring the doorbell and someone would let me in. But my aunt and uncle were overseeing a ten day motorcycle tour, and were probably somewhere around Reno.
The fun began when I was feeding the cats. Before feeding Kitty Witty in the garage, I put Tomas inside and closed the door to the living room so he couldn’t get out. Of course, I’d locked it from the inside so I couldn’t get in.
I stood at the door, holding the bag of Science Diet in my arm, and took in the seriousness of the situation. I had locked the front door and back slider, my cell phone and keys were upstairs in my room, and my aunt and uncle were hundreds of miles away.
I didn’t panic. I admitted my stupidity in a calm, adult way by closing my eyes and shaking my head. I tried the knob, hoping it wasn’t locked, but it didn’t turn.
Maybe the slider isn’t locked, I thought. I walked around to the back patio and tugged the handle. The door pulled away from the frame, but the lock kept it from opening.
I was screwed. I thought about the neighbors, but they probably didn’t have a key. I thought about pulling out the hinges of the door to the living room, but didn’t know if I could pull the door away from the socket. I also thought about climbing to the roof of the first floor. I always left my window open, and I could pull out the screen and jump in.
It reminded me of the times I’d gotten locked out of my apartment in Iowa City. I’d forget my keys in the morning when I left for class, and by the time I got back everyone else had left and locked the door. I never realized my keys were missing until I reached in my pocket as I got to the door.
Sometimes one of my roommates was there, but sometimes not. The first time I locked myself out I had walked from campus in the bitter cold. The temperature was probably around zero, and I wasn’t about to walk back downtown so I could chill at my mom’s office. So I sat at the door and read. An hour later I got bored and figured out how to remove the spyglass of the peep hole (what amazed me was it unscrewed from the outside). With the eye piece out, I could peek through the hole in the door to the inside of the apartment. The only thing keeping me out was a two inch wood panel and a three inch metal bolt.
One of my roommates always came back to let me in, and my keys were always sitting on my desk. But my aunt and uncle weren’t coming back; they were on the road for another eight days. I either had to find a clever way to master the lock on the door, or force my way in.
Just as I was about to start looking for a ladder or something to propel me to the first roof, I remembered my aunt and uncle had locked themselves out once. Carlene said one of the back windows in the kitchen was always open a crack, and they removed the screen and crawled in.
I examined the kitchen windows, and saw one of them open a sliver. I went to the garage, Science Diet in hand, and found a pair of pruning sheers. I pried at the top of the screen and pulled it from the frame. I opened the window, separated the blinds, and hopped inside.
If nothing else it was a good excuse to mix a couple White Russians.
The fun began when I was feeding the cats. Before feeding Kitty Witty in the garage, I put Tomas inside and closed the door to the living room so he couldn’t get out. Of course, I’d locked it from the inside so I couldn’t get in.
I stood at the door, holding the bag of Science Diet in my arm, and took in the seriousness of the situation. I had locked the front door and back slider, my cell phone and keys were upstairs in my room, and my aunt and uncle were hundreds of miles away.
I didn’t panic. I admitted my stupidity in a calm, adult way by closing my eyes and shaking my head. I tried the knob, hoping it wasn’t locked, but it didn’t turn.
Maybe the slider isn’t locked, I thought. I walked around to the back patio and tugged the handle. The door pulled away from the frame, but the lock kept it from opening.
I was screwed. I thought about the neighbors, but they probably didn’t have a key. I thought about pulling out the hinges of the door to the living room, but didn’t know if I could pull the door away from the socket. I also thought about climbing to the roof of the first floor. I always left my window open, and I could pull out the screen and jump in.
It reminded me of the times I’d gotten locked out of my apartment in Iowa City. I’d forget my keys in the morning when I left for class, and by the time I got back everyone else had left and locked the door. I never realized my keys were missing until I reached in my pocket as I got to the door.
Sometimes one of my roommates was there, but sometimes not. The first time I locked myself out I had walked from campus in the bitter cold. The temperature was probably around zero, and I wasn’t about to walk back downtown so I could chill at my mom’s office. So I sat at the door and read. An hour later I got bored and figured out how to remove the spyglass of the peep hole (what amazed me was it unscrewed from the outside). With the eye piece out, I could peek through the hole in the door to the inside of the apartment. The only thing keeping me out was a two inch wood panel and a three inch metal bolt.
One of my roommates always came back to let me in, and my keys were always sitting on my desk. But my aunt and uncle weren’t coming back; they were on the road for another eight days. I either had to find a clever way to master the lock on the door, or force my way in.
Just as I was about to start looking for a ladder or something to propel me to the first roof, I remembered my aunt and uncle had locked themselves out once. Carlene said one of the back windows in the kitchen was always open a crack, and they removed the screen and crawled in.
I examined the kitchen windows, and saw one of them open a sliver. I went to the garage, Science Diet in hand, and found a pair of pruning sheers. I pried at the top of the screen and pulled it from the frame. I opened the window, separated the blinds, and hopped inside.
If nothing else it was a good excuse to mix a couple White Russians.
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