Some disaster always strikes when Dan is out of town. It's inevitable. This time it was getting locked out of the house on a rainy, wet, cold day. Let me explain to you how weird this is.

First of all, I NEVER lock doors. By some strange coincidence though, not only all of the doors, but all of the windows were closed AND locked yesterday. In the morning I let Bugs out to go pee, then when he was coming back in I noticed that it was starting to storm, so I closed the sliding glass door and *locked* it, thinking for some reason that there was a chance that it might blow open in a gust of wind. As if!

I saw an open window in the master bathroom that morning, and closed it. Chilly in there. Why waste heat! All of our windows lock automatically when you shut them all the way.

Normally I go outside through the front door at some point in the morning, thereby unlocking the door from the night before. But yesterday we did not venture out the front door in the morning, so it stayed locked.

Normally the back door from the master bedroom to the back yard is unlocked, but Dan is out of town, so he's not going back and forth to his office out there all day. Therefore, you guessed it....locked.

Well, none of this would have mattered if Julian had not been playing around with the lock on the doorknob to the garage. He went out to get Bugs' breakfast in the garage in the morning, and turned the twisty auto-lock button on the knob at some point. That's when the stage was set for the perfect storm of lockout.

I had a bunch of orders to ship, so I got the kids and myself all bundled up warmly, put Adrian on my back to prepare him for napping, strapped on my cellphone + headset, and proceeded out to the garage. Almost as soon as I stepped out the door, I realized that I had forgotten something, so I grabbed the doorknob to go back inside and ... the darn thing wouldn't turn.

I had a sick feeling immediately, suspecting that all the other doors might indeed be locked, but I trudged around the perimeter of the house trying every door and window before concluding that yes, we were indeed locked out. It was raining steadily and quite cold, but at least we could keep dry in the garage, if not warm. Thankfully, we were all dressed fairly warmly, with sweaters and hats. Not Bugs though. Poor dog didn't have his sweater on, so he was shivering and shaking after about 20 minutes. I tried to put an old sweatshirt on him, but he kept getting his leg or paw caught in it, and he also refused to sit on the foam mat, but insisted on sitting on the bare concrete floor, which was like a block of ice. Dumbass. He went and sat by the locked door, shivering and giving me pathetic looks, like OPEN THIS DOOR NOW! If I could, I would. OK?

Anyway, I realized how stupid we were to have no spare key hidden anywhere, and no spare key given to anyone either. I thought we had given one to Dan's mom, but no. I thought we had given one to a neighbor, but no. Shit.

I got a screwdriver and fiddled with the lock. It kind of moved around, but I had no real idea of what I was doing. Having no success, I gave up.

So I called a locksmith. Luckily I had my cell phone with me, and luckily it had plenty of juice. The locksmith told me 20 minutes. Forty minutes later, Julian was complaining that his hands were cold, and no locksmith. I called back and they apologized, but the locksmith was delayed and they had to cancel. NICE.

I called another locksmith, and they told me it would be an hour's wait. I called another, and they told me they only had locksmiths in Orange County. WTF?!?!

Finally I got a locksmith who told me 25 minutes. By now we had already been waiting for an hour and a half. Kim had come by to babysit the kids and I had to send her home, not knowing how much longer we would be out there in the garage. Everyone was cold and hungry and tired of sitting in the garage.

Finally, the locksmith showed up. He was this rumpled, scraggly-haired Unabomber-looking dude who looked like he just rolled out of bed. His tool kit was a total mess and he said he had accidentally left his drill at the last job, so he hoped that our locks were easy to pick. Yeah, well...me too.

He walked into the garage and checked out the lock, then whipped out two screwdrivers. Within a minute the door was open. It was open so fast that I pretty much felt like an idiot for not trying two screwdrivers myself. One screwdriver I tried, but not two.

So I write a check for $85 to the guy (whose name was Hillel, was he some sort of super-scruffy Orthodox Jew?) who looked a bit sheepish for taking $85 for literally less than a minute's work, but oh well. I was just glad to get in the house, back to warmth and food.

BTW, if you are some low-life skank reading this and thinking about robbing my house, think again. That easy-to-pick lock is normally not accessible, since a deadbolted door keeps the garage secure. So go pick on someone else.

Anyway, I learned my lesson. I will have several keys made for secret stashing locations, and strategically placed with neighbors as well. Lockout sucks.