I'm a door locker. Can't help it. When I enter the house, I shut the door and immediately turn the bolt. It drives my family crazy, since they're usually lolly-gagging behind me and have to ring the door bell for entry. I've been known to send a child out with the trash only for him to return to discover I've bolted the door. (My offspring believe that I do this absentmindedly. Someday when they have children of their own, they will know the truth.)
But it's getting bad. I locked my own self out of the house twice yesterday. I've shuffled some keys around on key rings, forgetting to put my house key back on the ring with my car keys. I didn't realize my error on the first lock-out until I returned home from the post office and rummaged in my purse for 30-minutes. My husband came home from work and rescued me. His chivalry was delivered with a heavy dose of chiding, however.
The second time I locked myself out, I was just going out to the front porch to sweep. On the way out, I must have twisted the lock before swinging the door closed. When I attempted to re-enter to get the dustpan, the knob held fast. Using my kids' tactic, I shook the door in its frame.
Determined not to call my husband again, I reasoned, There must be some way to break into this battened down fortress I've created. Three minutes later I stood in my kitchen marveling at how disturbingly easy it was.
But it's getting bad. I locked my own self out of the house twice yesterday. I've shuffled some keys around on key rings, forgetting to put my house key back on the ring with my car keys. I didn't realize my error on the first lock-out until I returned home from the post office and rummaged in my purse for 30-minutes. My husband came home from work and rescued me. His chivalry was delivered with a heavy dose of chiding, however.
The second time I locked myself out, I was just going out to the front porch to sweep. On the way out, I must have twisted the lock before swinging the door closed. When I attempted to re-enter to get the dustpan, the knob held fast. Using my kids' tactic, I shook the door in its frame.
Determined not to call my husband again, I reasoned, There must be some way to break into this battened down fortress I've created. Three minutes later I stood in my kitchen marveling at how disturbingly easy it was.
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5 comments:
Left the back door wide open, did you?
That is disturbing.
I'm not as rabid about locking the back door as I am about locking the front. And I don't lock doors out of fear. I lock them out of finality: Close it, lock it, finished, on to next sequence of events.
Sounds a bit like OCD to me. I locked myself out once, in my nightdress. Had to go to the stores across the road for help. The store guy had to go around to a back walk way, climb over a wall, brave three German Shepherds and then unlock the door.
Jo, that's some serious chivalry!
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