So I met Don today, who lives four doors down. Don, the locksmith. Nice to meet you Don, the locksmith. Pardon my crying, but can you unlock my door for me so I can get back to my 6-month-old?
I know better than to close the sliding glass door behind me when I take the dog out for her afternoon pee. I had no sooner felt the click when I realized my mistake and tried to open it. However, the stupid lock fell right with the click, and I was fashionably locked out. Of my house. No keys, no phone, baby in the crib (okay, that was the right thing to do -- I had just laid him down for his nap; he wasn't asleep but he was quietly meandering around his crib while deciding to sleep or not). I went to the neighbors that I do know, borrowed the phone. But Christen's cell is broken and we are in the middle of deciding about new service, and I don't know his work number by heart. So I called his parents. Do you have a key to my house. Nope.
Thankfully, my neighbor is a locksmith. I think I even like that better than having a cop there.
Woohoo for babies on the same side of the door as me.
And air conditioning.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
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1 comments:
It sounds like you handled it very well. I probably would have been in a panic.
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