Locked out of my own house

There is nothing more frustrating or embarrassing than walking out the front door of your house, shutting the door, and then realizing you don’t have your keys in your hand. You peek through the front door window and spy your keys lying peacefully on the foyer table. The funny thing is, you’ll probably stand there looking at them trying to move them by telepathic waves to suddenly appear in your purse. And yes, you’ll dig through your purse just to make sure the telepathy didn’t work.

Instead of calling a locksmith right away, you find yourself trying to open every window and door around the entire perimeter of your house. You remember that your upstairs bedroom window is unlocked because you had it open the night before. You consider the unquestionable; getting the ladder and entering your house through that upstairs bedroom window. Fortunately you finally realize the prospect of real physical injury forces you to make that fateful call to one of the locksmiths in town.

I’ve played out this scenario not once, not twice, but five times in the last six years. Oh, I have two extra sets ofkeys….but you guessed it, they are inside the house, mocking me from the drawer I put them in. I live in a small town and there are only two locksmith businesses; both of whom I know personally. Not only from the numerous trips they’ve had to make to unlock my house and my car (that’s another story), but also because I grew up with them and attended the same school. To say the least I have both of their numbers on speed dial and I just have to remember which one I called last and then call the other so to lessen the embarrassment.

With the call made and five minutes of intense laughter from Sammy, the locksmith, I waited for him to arrive. He showed up fifteen minutes later, gave me another few minutes of teasing, walked up to the front door, pulled out a key, and opened my door. It took longer to make the call then it did for him to open my door. He didn’t use any tools, which I thought was odd. When I asked him why he left his tools in the truck he explained that he didn’t need his locksmith tools because I was a three-time repeat customer. He kept a copy of my key in my file for such events. He got a huge laugh out of this, once again, handed me the bill which read, “This one’s on the house; thanks for the excellent laugh.” This weekend I’m practicing my ladder climbing skills.