So once the kids were gone, I decided, on a whim, to take down my Christmas decor from the porch. In my raggedy sweatshirt and pajama pants I went to the porch and began to pull things down. I was in the middle of pulling off a red ribbon when I heard, SLAM! I turned around and noticed that the wind had blown my door shut. No big deal, I never lock the door handle. I continued to work and then when my hands were full, I decided to make a run to the basement and drop some decorations into my Christmas bin. I turn the knob and it was LOCKED! My heart began to race, but I talked myself into remaining calm. I walk to my garage, punch in the code and voila my garage door opened. I smiled and thought that I was a genius. However, when I went to go into my family room, that door was locked! Dead bolted!!! Now I was starting to panic. It's only 39 degrees, I am bare footed and in my raggedy house attire. Then I remembered that my stove was on! I had put a pan with some water and soap on the burner b/c it's a neat trick to get stubborn gook off of pans. Now I was in survival mode! My house is going to burn down! I am the wife of a fire fighter, for crying out loud!!!! I can just hear the five o'clock news, "the home of a local fire fighter burned down by his wife while he is away serving our country..." The New Yorker in me kicked in. Good thing I grew up being street smart. I looked around my garage and realized that my van was unlocked. I open up the little drawer in the console, where I keep our summer pool passes, and grabbed two of them. I ran to my front door and slid it through the lock, jiggled a little, and voila. I opened my door! Now I am on my way to Home Depot. We are buying a new handle lock! The dead bolt does it's job, but the one on the handle... well, you know! So, far that has been my morning! *Image courtesy of thelockgenie.co.uk
