Locked In

Sometimes you do things that make you feel really, really, really smart.

Today I locked myself in my own bathroom. Embarrassed as I was, I was not too proud to call for help.

My wife came running. “Honey what is it?” I gave her the situation in so many words, and after she was done laughing she said she’d go get a screwdriver or something. She left. I waited.

Twenty minutes. I call again. My son runs up this time. I ask him what’s taking so long, he says he doesn’t know. Hasn’t seen his mom. Great. I ask him to bring my toolbox, I’ll tell him what to use on the door. He leaves. I wait some more.

Thirty minutes. Forty-five. Have they forgotten me?

I yell myself hoarse and finally I hear footsteps. It’s my neighbor. He says my front door’s open, my house is like a refrigerator. I ask him if he could help me out of my predicament. He leaves. Thankfully he’s back in a matter of minutes. He says he can’t find anything nearby, but he asked my wife and she agreed to help him look for my tools in the basement. He leaves before I can say anything.

I don’t have a basement.

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