I usually walk with my cousin to his car at night. Tonight, I was wearing sweatpants as my pairs of jeans are still in the laundry from the recent storm. Sweatpants don’t have much space for extra stuff, so I left everything in the house.
I close the door, as not to heat the neighborhood, and visit with my cousin for a few more minutes before turning around to head back in the house. Hm. The door is locked. Thats strange… maybe I absentmindedly locked it on my way out. Nope. No keys or anything in my pockets.
I try it a few more times, realizing now that my lovely wife is asleep and this would be a very stupid thing to wake her up for. However, I quickly realize that my paranoid side of course has locked every other portal to my home. So I got on my cell phone (thank God I had it) and woke up Tasha to come let me in.
Somehow the knob lock dealie got turned, and I was locked out. The dog lacks opposable thumbs, and Tasha was asleep. The only other options are the government or a ghost. I think I’ll name my ghost Clive. Or Phil Spector.
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