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Carol Perkins: Locked out of the house - and the car
A door, but not Guy's kneecaps, was the only major casualty of the lost keys episode, with which too many can identify.
Next earlier column: Carol Perkins: Wistful thoughts on birthday
By Carol Perkins
A voice inside me yelled, DON'T SHUT THE DOOR, but it was too late. Between the outside door and the bookcase in the den were my car keys. On that same key ring was also the house key. Guy had just said, "Are your keys in the car?" I thought they were. I was confident they were, but when the door slammed, I wasn't sure. "Guy, don't shuttttt....." but it was too late.
"I thought you said the keys were in the car?" he said.
"I think I took them inside." He was calm, but I could tell he wasn't collected.
He and I searched through the car, but no keys. "Don't you have a key hidden somewhere?"
I remembered the last time I used the hidden key, I left it lying on the same bookcase, reminding myself to return it to the hiding spot. I never did, but when I found four keys in the garage, I hoped one of them would fit something. He tried all four at every door. "Do you have any idea why these keys that open nothing are on this shelf by the door? I didn't.
The house was airtight, which was for security reasons was what we intended, but just one time I wished I had left a window unlocked.
"Try to open it with a credit card." He refused, insisting that didn't work. I kept quiet but felt like saying, "How do you know if you don't try?" Sometimes when a wife does something brainless, the best thing to do is give the husband space. When the husband does something just as bad, he knows to keep quiet. I leaned against the car and waited.
Guy decided that the least important door was the one leading to the basement. Among his tools, he chose a crowbar, and with the crowbar and his foot, he pushed and beat the door. He's going to have a heart attack. Actually, kicking the door and trying to pry it away from the frame was somehow therapeutic. "Would you rather I break out a window?" This sounded like a much better idea; however, I feared he would ram his hand through the broken glass and cut an artery, so I listened as he continued to beat the door, kicking with a vengeance. He'll need a knee replacement.
Finally, I heard the door break away from the frame. He was now inside and coming up the basement steps. (I think he was stomping) I waited. He opened the door between us and declared, "Your keys aren't on this shelf." I looked for myself, and they were nowhere. I went from room to room, searching. Maybe they aren't in the house after all. I was hoping he would not find them in the car after tearing down the basement door.
When he searched the car again, he found the keys lodged between the driver's side and the console. "I'll have to put a new lock on the door, but other than that, I don't think I tore it up." A lesser man might have had a fit and chastised his wife for being so careless. With Guy, he long ago learned to expect the unexpected. (His foot was sore for a week.)
(Carol's latest book, A Dog Named Fluffy Sam, is available at Amazon.com in both book form and download. It is also available at the Edmonton/Metcalfe Chamber of Commerce, Wall Works in Edmonton, and the Lighthouse in Sulphur Well. Those of you may remember Carol's accounts of Fluffy, and now she has a book of her ten-year journey with this special Maltese that is funny and sad. Sept.29th will be a book signing at the Metcalfe County Library (2-4) and other signings at various locations are to be announced.)
This story was posted on 2017-09-13 05:54:34
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