When God Closes a Door...

I am so stupid sometimes I surprise even my own self.

Until the year 2003, I had never locked my keys in the car, never locked myself out of my own home, never found myself on the outside of a public building, after hours with my belongings, including purse and keys, locked inside. 2003 was a banner year for me and keys, because not only did I do all of those things, but I did them often and I did something else truly spectacularly memorable along with it. Like, not only did I lock my keys in the car, but two of my four children were inside, buckled into their carseats and unable to get out and open the door. Twice. Once was in the heat of summer and the police helped me get into the car before they fried. The second (and last) was in the pouring, freezing November rain. I was wearing my pajamas and slippers, dropping the other two of the four off at school. The janitor handed me a door wedge and a wire coat hanger and I got right to it. They did not laugh at me within earshot and I thanked them heartily for that before I left. I have gotten into the habit of purposefully holding my keys in front of my face before locking any door. It seemed to be working until today.

If you have been to a hotel within the last ten years or so, you'll know that they have a security slide lock that beats the pants off of any silly chain. It is heavy duty and it means business. If someone tries to open the door while the lock is engaged, everyone on the damn floor will hear the crash of the door decidedly NOT opening. In our last apartment, I became increasingly worried about the shady characters waltzing through my building on the way to drop off the rent. Or partial-rent. Or excuse for not paying the rent. You get the point. I demanded some kind of security lock to protect me and my brood from the inside. We had very little and if anyone wanted to steal from us while we ere gone, so be it; I just didn't want any stray bodies entering while I was there. So we were allowed to install the slide lock. It was very handy in deterring our curious toddlers from walking out of the apartment and getting lost in the laundry room. No joke. Moving into our new house, I replaced the silly chains with the industrial slide locks on both doors. Which brings us to today.

I noticed that my middle-schooler again failed to take her backpack with her to school this morning. The backpack with her house key inside. I was supposed to volunteer at the elementary school, which meant that I would not be home to let her in when her bus arrived at 3:05, so she would have to stand outside in the cold and wait for 35-40 minutes until I got home. Although that lesson might make other kids decide to take their backpacks to school, mine hasn't got it yet. So I decided to figure out a way to leave her key right there in the door, without leaving the key right there in the door (she doesn't take hints like "look under the rock" either). I tied a piece of twine to the slide lock, tied a clothespin to the other end of the twine, and hung a small gift bag from the clothespin with her key inside. This clothespin has been hanging on the slide lock since we moved in to this house; it isn't something I just dreamed up today. Here comes the spectacular part. While closing the door, I apparently pulled the twine j-u-s-t far enough to engage the lock, very, very effectively locking me out of my own house, with keys in hand. And guess what? The goddamn lock held. And guess what else? I distinctly remember walking around the house before bed last night, checking to make sure the windows were locked. Fucking great.

Anytime I have no idea where something is, or what I should do, I call Tad. Not that he always has the right answer, but it just seems like the thing to do.

( Does he have the answer this time? Click here and find out!)