I went for a walk and locked my front door as I always do. My girls were with friends cavorting around the neighborhood. I had my cell phone (and dog) with me as always.
When I arrived back from a fantastic walk through the woods on a beautifully warm and sunny January day, I noticed that some of Miss Moo's belongings were on the doorstep. I quickly came to the correct conclusion that she had come home, found the door locked, dropped off a couple things and went back to hanging out with her friend.
Then I tried to unlock my door...and the key wouldn't go all the way in. And you know when something like that happens and you're in denial at first so you try the other key on the keyring, try the right one again, turn it the other way, try a little harder...? Yep, that's what I did until I put 2 and 2 together and figured out that Miss Moo and her friend must have tried to pick the lock with something and messed it up! Ugh!
About this time here comes the culprit and her friend and they begin to tell me, in the overdramatic way that 12 year old girls are so good at, that they have to PEE and I need to open the door NOW!
So I hand my child the key. Knock yourself out, girlie. Then I asked them what the heck they tried to pick the lock with.
And they tell me they used a spork. A flippin' spork to pick a lock with, really? They are flimsy at best for use as a utensil to get food into your mouth, and you're going to move a deadbolt with it? REALLY?
So I call the local locksmith, and it's Saturday and he's leaving town...dang!
Well, we're stuck. The only way to get into my house is through the back sliding glass door which I never keep locked. I never lock it because it's way too high off the ground for anyone to access....unless they go get a tall ladder...and strap it to the top of their Honda Civic...which is what I did.
So, arriving back with the tallest ladder I could find...a sturdy looking 8 footer from Mike's (who is out of town), I find that it falls a little short:
By a good foot and a half...and I'm not really fond of ladders to begin with and especially not standing on the very tip top of a ladder on the thing that says something to the effect of "This is not a step! Don't ever step up on this ladder this high or you will no doubt fall to your DOOM!"
At this point Nat shows up with her friends and after debating with myself, I figure with 5 kids holding the ladder steady, I could probably do it. I'm at the point where I know this is either going to work fine or be a serious regret. So I go for it.
The tricky part is getting from the "top step of doom" to the ledge of my deck with a good grip on something. As you can see I have a bit of plywood to cling to, but somehow it works out and I find myself free of the ladder and hanging onto the outside of my deck. Here is where I hope that I have the upper body strength to pull myself over, because I don't think there's any way I'm going back down the ladder without somehow hurting myself.
As it happens, I am able to pull myself over the rail and Viola! I have access to my house again!
For the next few days I enjoy making passive-aggressive comments to Miss Moo regarding the convenience of not having to worry about having a key to open the door because we can't flippin' lock it anymore! I figure I'm entitled, having put my life and limb at risk so two tween girls could empty their bladders post haste!