One of the worst feelings is realizing you’re locked out of your house.
For me, I got home sweaty and smelling gross after a long run before class, ran up the steps and tried the doorknob &- only to find it shut against me.
No panic yet. I wandered around to the back of the house where the back key should have been, were it not sitting on the washing machine inside the house. Time to panic.
I tried every window, door, banged on my roommate’s window praying that she was home. No luck. I ran next door, hoping that someone knew the number for my landlord, who lived all the way out in Holladay, like that’s far away for someone to let me in…he wasn’t even listed in the phonebook.
I started wandering around the porch, hoping to find an extra spare key just floating around under a potted plant somewhere, silently cursing the person who had locked me out…and found a screwdriver.
Now, I don’t know how to “break and enter” into a place &- I can’t even pick a lock. But while I was walking around, I tried to use the screwdriver as a lever to open my window somehow. It didn’t work.
And then I noticed the bricks just lying by the side of the house…practically calling to me. I slammed a brick against the screwdriver, and the window slowly cracked open. More shoving and pushing later, and I secured an entrance. And with a bunch of bricks stacked together, I climbed up the ledge and crawled through the window.
Success! I could finally take a shower and try to make it to class. And then I heard my roommate calling my name…she was home the entire time and decided not to answer the door because she didn’t know who it was.
I’m taking my phone with me next time I go running.