I managed to lock myself out of the house today with the TV on and corn boiling on the stove.
I managed to lock myself out of the house today without my cell phone or shoes.
I traipsed around the garage for about fifteen minutes, cursing my stupidity and trying to find a way back in. I bent a paper clip on the lock, Inspector Gadget-style, and discovered that I am terrible at picking locks.
I finally left the garage, remembering that a spare key was available up the street at a neighbor's house. I couldn't remember which neighbor it was, and since I didn't have my cell phone, calling was out of the question. Again, I was also not wearing shoes and didn't want the entire neighborhood to know that the hick from South Carolina had done gone locked herself out of the effing house for the second time since moving in.
By minute 18, I was standing in front of the house, wondering why anyone would have security rivaling a lockdown at the NSA. I dropped the F-bomb, loudly and twice.
Then, I remembered that earlier that day, I'd left the front door unlocked. I'd figured that I'd leave the house to take out the trash and go for a walk, and because the number of locks on this house truly baffles me, I'd done it deliberately to avoid such a situation. How I managed to forget this minor detail for 21 minutes now escapes me. I scampered up to the front door, held my breath, turned the knob, and ... voila. The corn was drying out in the pot, but otherwise still salvagable. The TV was blaring "My Super Sweet Sixteen," which would have been mildly embarrassing, had I actually needed the neighbors' spare. I don't need the entire street to know that I have the cultural tastes of a preteen.
In conclusion, I am an idiot. The only comfort I have is that in 27 years, I have become an idiot with built-in safeguards.
At least I think.
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