(no subject)
Jan. 6th, 2009 10:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phosfateI locked myself out of my house.
"Ann," you say, "I thought you had all those extra keys made so that would never happen again!"
Why yes, yes, I did. They're all accessible and functioning. But the screen door is a different thing -- a steel affair with a big grille, designed so that all the window bits and door edges angle inward, so you can't open it with a credit card or a piece of metal. It is, in fact, a really good door. Except that when I took my bag out to the car this morning, I did something to the latch that made it lock when I closed it.
Huh, I thought, and stared at the door stupidly.
I twisted the knob a lot.
I wiggled it around, hoping to knock the latch back into place.
I whocked it.
I tried kicking.
Locksmith, I thought.
But the phone book is in the house. There's a teeny car phonebook that just arrived, but it's...still in the house. I could drive to work and call from there, but my money and I.D. are still in the house, and this would be the one day I get pulled over by the police for having a funny-looking car.
The neighbors have already gone to work, so I walk to the BP station. There's no phonebook. I ask to borrow one inside. "Sure. What's the problem?" "Oh, I got locked out of m--" "O HAY WE GOT A GUY HERE'S A CARD!" She hands me a business card and a phone. "Oh. Thank you. Um...is he up yet, do you think? Also I don't know how this phone works." She shows me which button to push.
"Lock guy, can you help me? Blah blah steel door I'm an idiot."
"I...I'm not actually sure. Blah blah lock?"
"Blah blah really good door..."
"Meh. Blah have a look blah where?"
"My house blah blah directions blah gotta walk back blah."
"Blah?"
"Blah!"
It suddenly occurs to me, as I type this, that I could easily have driven to the BP station and saved myself a good freezing. Damn. I even got into the car to fish out change.
So I buy a cup of coffee in the handy Jamaican Me Crazy! flavor, and walk back to the house.
Lock guy turns up a minute or two after I get there. "Is it the front?"
"No, I know how to open the front screen. But the inside door is locked, with a deadbolt."
"Oh."
We go to the back door. "Blah blah keys? No keyhole blah. Let me piece of thin metal blah."
"Blah blah really good door grill come off?"
"No. Blah piece of thin metal blah blah shake the door."
"Blah. It's a really good door. Hinges?"
"I'm afraid blah. Let's do the middle one first and see if it wobbles enough to blah."
"Blahkay."
"Blah. Wobble wobble really good door!"
"Is what I'm blah."
"Okay take hinges off blah do it this way so blah blah blah."
So he does, and gets the door open, and we kajigger the latch thingie and it works, and he puts the door back on and we kajigger the latch thingie some more and it's cool. I get my checkbook.
"Hang on, there's, only like 40,000 pens in the house, and...none of them are here. That's a white pencil. That's a propelling pencil...ooo, that's chalk. Hang on." I wander into the living room and start going through drawers. "Japanese brush pens! Pencil! Son of a -- oh here." I wander back in. "It's a neon green Kung Fu Panda gel pen. Is green okay?"
"Sure."
So I wrote him a check for a very reasonable $19. Then I went in the house and threw up.
Now I can't get warm.
"Ann," you say, "I thought you had all those extra keys made so that would never happen again!"
Why yes, yes, I did. They're all accessible and functioning. But the screen door is a different thing -- a steel affair with a big grille, designed so that all the window bits and door edges angle inward, so you can't open it with a credit card or a piece of metal. It is, in fact, a really good door. Except that when I took my bag out to the car this morning, I did something to the latch that made it lock when I closed it.
Huh, I thought, and stared at the door stupidly.
I twisted the knob a lot.
I wiggled it around, hoping to knock the latch back into place.
I whocked it.
I tried kicking.
Locksmith, I thought.
But the phone book is in the house. There's a teeny car phonebook that just arrived, but it's...still in the house. I could drive to work and call from there, but my money and I.D. are still in the house, and this would be the one day I get pulled over by the police for having a funny-looking car.
The neighbors have already gone to work, so I walk to the BP station. There's no phonebook. I ask to borrow one inside. "Sure. What's the problem?" "Oh, I got locked out of m--" "O HAY WE GOT A GUY HERE'S A CARD!" She hands me a business card and a phone. "Oh. Thank you. Um...is he up yet, do you think? Also I don't know how this phone works." She shows me which button to push.
"Lock guy, can you help me? Blah blah steel door I'm an idiot."
"I...I'm not actually sure. Blah blah lock?"
"Blah blah really good door..."
"Meh. Blah have a look blah where?"
"My house blah blah directions blah gotta walk back blah."
"Blah?"
"Blah!"
It suddenly occurs to me, as I type this, that I could easily have driven to the BP station and saved myself a good freezing. Damn. I even got into the car to fish out change.
So I buy a cup of coffee in the handy Jamaican Me Crazy! flavor, and walk back to the house.
Lock guy turns up a minute or two after I get there. "Is it the front?"
"No, I know how to open the front screen. But the inside door is locked, with a deadbolt."
"Oh."
We go to the back door. "Blah blah keys? No keyhole blah. Let me piece of thin metal blah."
"Blah blah really good door grill come off?"
"No. Blah piece of thin metal blah blah shake the door."
"Blah. It's a really good door. Hinges?"
"I'm afraid blah. Let's do the middle one first and see if it wobbles enough to blah."
"Blahkay."
"Blah. Wobble wobble really good door!"
"Is what I'm blah."
"Okay take hinges off blah do it this way so blah blah blah."
So he does, and gets the door open, and we kajigger the latch thingie and it works, and he puts the door back on and we kajigger the latch thingie some more and it's cool. I get my checkbook.
"Hang on, there's, only like 40,000 pens in the house, and...none of them are here. That's a white pencil. That's a propelling pencil...ooo, that's chalk. Hang on." I wander into the living room and start going through drawers. "Japanese brush pens! Pencil! Son of a -- oh here." I wander back in. "It's a neon green Kung Fu Panda gel pen. Is green okay?"
"Sure."
So I wrote him a check for a very reasonable $19. Then I went in the house and threw up.
Now I can't get warm.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-06 05:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-06 05:07 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-06 05:09 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-06 05:10 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-06 05:13 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-07 04:22 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-06 05:11 pm (UTC)The day can only get better, pet.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-07 04:23 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-06 05:20 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-07 04:23 pm (UTC):D And that was when you knew you'd be inside in no time.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-06 05:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-07 04:24 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-06 05:22 pm (UTC)(And wow, $19 was a steal)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-07 04:25 pm (UTC)(Inorite??? Last guy was $35, and he just popped it open with a lock gun.)
OMG Icon!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-06 05:33 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-07 04:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-06 05:43 pm (UTC)*gives you ginger ale. With whiskey in it.*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-07 04:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-06 06:15 pm (UTC)Hot shower to warm up! Oh, wait, you're probably at work, huh? Um. Microwave your socks?
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-07 04:27 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-06 06:18 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-06 06:40 pm (UTC)Middle-aged Woman (MW) to the rescue! *strikes pose*
Date: 2009-01-06 07:02 pm (UTC)When I'm to-the-bone cold, I either take a hot shower or, if there's no time for that, use a hand-held hairdryer on my scalp. There's a lotta blood vessels in the scalp and if you use a hairdryer (moving it around as if you're drying your hair), the warmth is carried all over your body. (This is also why your mom tells you to wear a hat in the winter, your head is basically shedding heat like crazy without one.)
THE MORE YOU KNOW!
Re: Middle-aged Woman (MW) to the rescue! *strikes pose*
Date: 2009-01-07 04:28 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-06 07:24 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-07 04:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-06 07:50 pm (UTC)OH GOD I LOCKED MYSELF OUT LAST MONTH and called one of my friends who knows his way around a lock -- he couldn't but eventually we got my keys, went upstairs, and ordered pizza. I go downstairs to get the pizza, pay the guy, am holding the pizza... then buzz my own apartment and a voice comes back with, "YOU FORGOT YOUR KEYS AGAIN?"
In conclusion, fuck... doors, man.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-07 04:30 pm (UTC)On the other hand, you got pizza out of it.
Mmmm, pizza.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-06 09:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-07 04:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-07 12:34 am (UTC)*gentle hugs and e-chickensoup of friendly warmth*
Oh, and, yes, like many others, my pens scurry into dark corners when they know I'm looking for them, too. I hear them tittering, dammit, and I'm not amused when they send out one of their depleted rejects to write half a word and then just make word-shaped dents in the paper. No. Not the funny.
Well... ummm... this is GOOD proof that your door is random-burgler resistant, right? Yeah.
Have some more soup.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-07 04:31 pm (UTC)It's a really good door.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-08 01:25 am (UTC)