now that's a story.

in the hustle and bustle of my april the most ridiculous thing happened. i locked myself out. twice. in one night. more specifically within the span of two hours. i blame it on the distractions of life, a compulsive habit of always locking the door, and the reoccurring number theme of "2" in this crazy life i lead (the punch line of many sarah stories is "TWICE!" you know...two dance flips, two cokes gone at reed, and now two lock-outs).

lock out #1. just got home from work. talking to becks on the phone while attempting to relocate the dead armadillo from my yard into the nearby scrub. so i'm balancing this guy with two golf clubs and slowly moving him to his new resting grounds. i succeed (with some difficulty), wash the clubs, and attempt to enter my home to let my dog out and run around in the now-armadillo-free yard. the knob won't turn. i locked it behind me and my hidden spare is no longer hidden but lying on the kitchen table. luckily my phone is in hand (as i was talking to becky) and i'm able to call Landlord Gerry who sends over his son and i am saved.

lock out #2. did i mention i was headed to texas the next day? i have a long list of things to do before i'm ready to go. besides the typical packing, i'm cleaning for my dog sitter, mowing the substantially overgrown yard, and cooking lasagna (need to use those ingredients before they go bad). well after completing the dirty cleaning and mowing tasks, i need a shower, but in the interest of time, i decided to prep the lasagna first and shower while it's in the oven. i do a quick clean up (so i'm not disgusting while handling food) which involves washing up and removing my sweaty clothes so that i'm now cooking in a tank top and underwear. the lasagna is going well. my tomato sauce is simmering. already added the garlic but realize basil and oregano would be a great addition. a quick step outside to the backyard to snip some leaves from my herb garden and disaster strikes. once again, the knob won't turn. hidden key still on the kitchen table (to be handed off to the dog sitter).

remember my cooking attire? yep. you got it. tank top and underwear. like something straight out of a tv show or movie, i'm locked out in my undies. first thought is "oh man, i can't call Gerry. i already bothered him once today." then i realize a) i don't have a phone this time and b) i'm in my underwear! i can't call my landlord over when i'm half naked. next thought: walk to stacy and brent's, my friends who live a couple of blocks away. yeah right. there's that whole underwear issue again. i scan my screened in porch for anything to save me. a towel! josey's muddy towel i use to wipe her feet, but still a towel! i wrap it around my body and contemplate walking to stacy and brent's in a towel. not that desperate yet. to the windows!

there are two windows i did not attempt to open during the first lock out because i never open them, figured there was no way they would be unlocked. and i was right. they were locked. BUT one was locked improperly and i was able to jam it open (though it kept falling on me). new problem--it's five feet off the ground. i find a chair, struggle to hoist myself in, break a few things, balance half-in/half-out while trying to figure out how to get in without falling on my head, slowly pull over a chair from inside, collapse on it, and roll onto the ground. there's my dog, sitting innocently with a look that says "what the hell mom?"

new plan: spare keys everywhere. including one stashed at stacy and brent's house. and a towel on the back porch at all times.