Breaking and Entering

Labor Day weekend, my mom and I always hold a booth at the show. Sunday, after the show, we decided to go through Moscow on the way home. I needed price tag labels for my new printer system and was dying to try it out. Moscow adds another hour to the trip home, which put us back in Deary around 9 or 10pm. My mom and I never pass a Starbucks without stopping, so in addition to labels we picked up a drink on the way home. Therefore, I was quite ready for a bathroom break by the time we got back to Deary.

When it comes to keys, I am extremely scatter-brained. When I was growing up, we didn't lock anything. The house, the car, nothing, so there was never any need to keep track of keys. This means that as an adult, I am hopeless when it comes to key organization. Give me a key to anything, and I will lose it within an hour! Thanks to the extra copies of my quilt shop key made for me by my mom and a friend, I haven't locked myself out of the shop for quite awhile, but I used to lock myself out weekly. (Which my mom finds extra annoying)

So, back to Labor Day weekend. Saturday night, I had locked the laundry room door, which exits to the garage. This door has one of those doorknobs that can be locked on the outside but still turns on the inside without automatically unlocking. This has, on more than one occasion, proven not to be a good choice if you're not good with keys, like me.

Sunday morning, my mom, who has an annoying ability to be an hour early for everything, had already called and demanded to know why I wasn't at the shop yet, so I was in a rush. I even left without properly fixing my hair. That meant that I rushed out the door Sunday morning without realizing the door was locked. A bad idea, indeed, since my family was gone camping for the weekend.

It wasn't until I arrived home, doing a potty dance, that I realized I had locked myself out of the house. Any other day of the year, I would've had the house key on my car key ring. But not this day. This happened to be the one time that I had removed the key a couple days before so Bailey could borrow it. I could see it perfectly in my mind, laying there so neatly on the table by my bed, right where I left it when she gave it back. So, that left me, exhausted, doing the potty dance, locked out of my house, in the dark.

Yes, in the complete dark. Because even though I could get inside the garage, I still couldn't turn on the outside lights. In addition to being scatterbrained about keys, I'm scatter brained about almost everything else. That includes remembering to buy and replace the light bulbs that had burned out. So scatterbrained, that every single light (all 6 of them) outside our house have burned out before I can remember to replace even one of them.

Thankfully, I did manage to get inside. It involved the headlights of my car and making a staircase/ladder out of fire wood, but I did get in, and I did finally make it to the bathroom. The entire time I kept hoping that no one would see me, because thanks to my hurried morning, the a-line hair cut I'm currently growing out, and a lack of hair gel, I held an eerie resemblance to Charles Manson (minus the facial hair). And if my neighbors have reason to believe that Charles Manson is breaking and entering my house, I can only hope that they would call the cops.