I’m usually organized (to a fault), and can’t remember the last time I locked myself out. College, maybe? 1979? One day about a month ago, I did the dreaded unusual – I locked the keys in the house. This was a very bad thing.
I was on my way to a violin lesson sans violin. That’s because it was sitting at the back door. My husband was on his way to a classroom, stuck in traffic, and could not return to open the door for me. The dog was out with me and wanted to go back inside. And my dinner was burning on the stove.
I had to get back in the house. Alas, but there was no key in the rock!
It was a warm day, but my husband is paranoid and never leaves the downstairs windows open while we are away. That day, there were only two windows open on the second floor – one to a bathroom, where a litter box is, unfortunately, stationed right under, and the other into my bedroom. The bedroom window is above a gabled portion of our family room, meaning I had a little bit of roof to work with.
I decided to get the ladder out and climb up to the second floor and break in.This is easier said than done.
First of all, the ladder was full of spider webs. The last time it was used was many, many moons ago. It was also rickety. However, I was full of aplomb, thinking, I could do this. After all, I’d been working out with Tony Horton and P90X for two months. I was about as limber as I had been in decades.
Things were just peachy until I got up about four rungs. Then the reality of the situation hit me: I am an old lady, and if I fall off this thing I’ll probably shatter every bone in my body. I stepped back down for a reassessment.