I grew up in a house where you never locked the doors.
(and now I'm 46)
I'm also trying very hard to OWN the consequences of my actions.
But's it's humiliating.
Makes me feel as responsible as a seven-year-old.
To be wearing sneakers that are falling apart, high-water (polka-dot) pajama pants, my son's green fleece jacket, an old scarf that I considered putting in the salvation army bag just two days ago
(WHY is parting with lame clothing and accessories so hard for me?!?)
and my daughter's cute pink gloves with the purple rosettes at the wrists.
Oh. And the pilled fleece headband to keep my ears warm, with my uncombed work-out hair spilling out at every angle.
Not exactly runway material.
On the up-side: I did get my exercise in.
I did vacuum my family room.
I carried in an extra load of firewood to keep the chill off,
on this 19-degree morning with wind.
Then I checked my e-mail.
I found the answer to a question I've been sitting on for three days, and hurried to put a stamp on the envelope and send it off before the mail truck came.
I threw on the extra clothes (because the walk to my mailbox is NOT quick!)
and went out through the back door.
I was happy,
and with the click of that door,
I was also
I jogged back from the street, because even with extra layers, it was CHILLY.
When the door wouldn't open, I knew I was hosed.
Gaining knowledge of my (oh, what? 27th time of being locked-out of the house?) situation canceled out the happy.
The spare-key-at-the-neighbor's-house-option did not work, since no one was at home.
I circled the house looking for a breech in the security system, but people, we are secure.
SO... I ate my humble pie and jogged across the street to the only neighbor's house who I knew would be home, and asked to use the phone to gain access to spare key option #2. While her dogs made me paranoid, sniffing me in all the places I don't care to have sniffed. About 10 minutes later, I was inside again and thawing out by the stove.
Let me just end with this:
I know I should be hiding a key somewhere.
(Don't make me feel more seven than I already do.)