Friday, February 27, 2009

When God tells me, "NO"

God doesn't really whisper when he tells me no. I think he understands I'm not the most intuitive person in the world and really need a blatant message. Like when he decided I wasn't supposed to go to Houston in July but convincing me of that fact took a car dragging, a stint of jury duty for my husband, and a brief but well-timed and freakish power outage caused by an illegal truck snapping the cable that hangs over the street.

Yesterday, He used a slightly different method of informing me I wasn't supposed to run errands.

If you want to be scientific about it, the wind was really the informant. I was getting ready to head out, and my first stop was going to be to take the dog to the groomer's near the kids' school. So I let the dog out to pee, got the dog carrier out of the garage and set it on the back porch, stepped back into the house to stack up my wallet, list, keys, and set my water mug next to it all, and went back out to put the dog in the carrier. The plan was to get the dog into the van first and then run back into the house, grab everything off the counter, and head out.

But it was a windy day, and in between my house and my detached garage is a space that acts like a very large wind tunnel. The wind will blow the screen door open/shut (depending on which direction the wind blows) or suck doors open/shut (again, depending on wind direction). I keep waiting for one of the kids to get their fingers smashed by this phenomenon. Anyway, I stepped out onto the back porch and called the dog... and the back door got sucked shut behind me by a gust of wind that darn near blew me over, too.

So I was locked out.

Fine. No need to panic. Usually we can break into the house via M1's window. It doesn't latch properly most of the time. So I got some buckets to stand on (since the ladder was in the house), grabbed a prybar, and headed for the window. I got the screen off, and that's as far as it got. I had had the windows open the previous day, and apparently when I shut them, I got it latched.

Now cue the panic. Keep in mind my husband is in Dallas doing training for work, 4-5 hours' drive away depending on traffic, and it's 10:15 a.m., and I have to get the kids from school at 3, and I can't get in the house to go pee, and there's nothing to eat or drink or...

Panic.

Luckily -VEEERRRY luckily - I had my phone in my pocket from texting some people. So I looked up a number and called a locksmith. This was at 10:30 a.m. They said they were sending someone "immediately." I called a few friends to kill time, and I called the locksmith back at 11:45. Oh, yes... I was in the system. Someone was "on route" and should be at my place shortly. Okey dokey. I sit back and read an e-book (Thank God for my iPhone!!!) for a while. At 12:30, the locksmith himself calls me and tells me he'll be there in half an hour. I politely inform him I was told someone was already supposed to have been on their way, and he tells me - equally politely, as he was very kind the entire time... my one good thing to say about him, but more on that in a bit - that the dispatcher was wrong, that he's been on jobs the whole time, and that the quickest he can reach me is in half an hour. I resign myself to the fact that he's at least aware of my existence and also acknowledge the fact that even if I called someone else, they probably wouldn't get to me any more quickly, and so I bow to the inevitable and sit back again.

Forty-five minutes later, he shows up. He took one look at my back door lock and says, "Nope, that one's 95% unpickable. Got any other doors?"

I didn't know locks were "unpickable." I'm GLAD it's unpickable, but for heaven's sake!

We walked around to the front door, and he said, "Oh, Weslock, that's better." I'm thinking, 'Good! Let's get me in the house!'

He spent probably 5 minutes or so - 10 if I'm optimistic - fiddling with this lock just inserting various tools and wiggling it in a very scientific-looking fashion. Then he turned to me.

"Here's the deal," he said. "This lock is old and has seen a lot of weather. There's a tumbler inside that's angled, and I can't get another tool in to straighten it. I'm going to have to drill it."

At this point, I didn't care if he'd said I had to break a window. DRILL THE THING! So he does.

I'm ecstatic. I'm in the house at last! It's only taken four hours, but never mind that, I'm IN! So I thank him, choke at the cost and pay him, and he leaves after telling me that I need to get a new lock quickly because (and he demonstrated this) anyone could just walk up and unlock the door with a screwdriver. Of course he had one on hand that he could sell me, but I (politely) declined. Let me tell you how petrified I was at the thought of someone in my neighborhood coming up and trying to break in. *rolls eyes*

Adam was mad that he didn't think to drill the back door lock rather than the front door lock, though, because the back door lock would have been much easier to replace. He wound up coming home last night anyway because there was 'emergency work' that just HAD to be done today, so he took a look at the lock and said, "Psht. The tumblers are fine. He was just in a hurry!"

I tend to concur.

But... I'm getting a new lock and door handle now!


It's nearly all installed. We're just about to put in the deadbolt, and then it'll be done.
What a fiasco, and all for God just to tell me not to run errands!
I must be more stubborn than I thought.

1 comment:

Habebi said...

Oy and Vey!!! Glad you finally got it all resolved (though at a price). Talk about one hell of an ordeal! Though I hope you don't mind I did get a good chuckle- if you wanna flip me off right now that's ok... I completly understand. ;-)