Just last week, I was so worried that my 4 year old son would lock me out of the house. It seems I should have been more worried about my husband.
Maybe this is my fault. I should take my keys with me. But it’s a paltry few steps up the street to the bus stop. On Tuesday, however, J had an appointment in town before he left late for work. We even waved at him as he drove past. I never even considered he would have locked me out.
Walking back to the house, though, I began to wonder. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Why would he lock the door when he knows I’m right there?
I banged so violently, even trying to kick it in, that a neighbor from a few houses down came out to let me use his phone. My neighbor next door followed suit. My husband didn’t answer, but I called and called. Our landlord wasn’t home. My fumbling attempts at breaking and entering didn’t work. My kids were impatient and whining and refused to sit on the steps like I asked them to. “Daddy, let me in!”, Buzz yelled. I’m going to be out here all day, I thought. That’s when the kind, scrawny older gentleman from next door walked around side of our house and tried to pry open a window.
“I might bust it, I’ll try not to, but at least you’ll get in”, he said an hour later when all other options failed.
Nothing says getting to know your neighbors like allowing them to break into your house. Except just then, the other neighbor from a few houses down came out to say my husband called back and was on his way. The day was saved! And so was my window.