Owen and I were gathering ye rose buds while ye may, actually we were gathering morning glory seeds to plant along our back fence. We managed to get ourselves completely locked out of the house. Stupid Herrick. Not a little locked out, but completely locked out.
No opened windows, no unlocked garage door, no doggy door, nothing. I was really wishing for that retinal scan yesterday. I was also kind of wishing I had a rock to crap under.
After I sucked it up and decided to admit my stupidity to a neighbor and beg for phone usage, I called the Ogre. Since this spectacular feat of brilliance was done just 3 short days after I locked my house keys into the Ogre's parent's house, the Ogre had no comment for this interview.
Sadly, I had to leave a message at the only other local number I could remember. Damn you memory dial!
Luckily, Alice got the message, and what felt like a couple hours of lawn work later she pulled up in her big truck and saved us. Well, not to let us into the house, but at least to take us over to the Ogre's parent's house. Which was sadly where we were supposed to be.
You see, the Ogre's parents were supposed to move in this weekend, and I was conveniently busy. But their belongings ended up either at the Canadian Border, or held hostage in Grand Rapids over the weekend. Either way, Jackie paid a hostage settlement and we were planning on helping to unpack boxes. Well, as much as a constant talker and well, another constant talker can unpack boxes. No, we can't talk and unpack.
So, moral of story: I need a locksmith to install a retinal scan lock to my own private bathroom, but also to my front door.