Mishaps find me wherever I go and it's rare that I get to write a funny post where I'm not the punch line. So when the opportunity comes, no way am I letting it slip past me. A few months ago Jay was in the garage helping me load up the kids for the morning day care drop-offs; we were running late and both frazzled as we tried to make sure everyone had their supplies for the day. A second of lip contact and I was speeding down the street without looking back.
If I had glanced in my rear-view mirror, I might have seen my husband running after me, waving wild arms in a futile attempt to catch my attention. On safety auto-pilot, I had locked the garage door into the house, not realizing Jay hadn't brought his keys outside with him. So there he was, standing in the garage in a ratty tank top and shorts, twisting the stubborn doorknob in the hopes it would magically unlock itself and let him in.
Now what would be a reasonable solution to such a dilemma? Our neighbor two doors down runs a home daycare, so one option would be to walk the 30 seconds to her house and call your wife to let you back in. Just a thought.
You could climb into the unlocked back of your truck, take out your drywall tools, cut a man-sized hole in the wall between the garage and the house, pull out the insulation, push aside the wiring and crawl through the wall into the house.
Later that day you could call your wife and casually mention the giant hole in the wall, as if this were no big deal and really the only logical way to deal with your unfortunate situation. When she tells you that just because you do drywall for a living you can't go around bashing holes in walls, you would be justified in taking offense and informing her that you did not "bash" a hole: it was a nice, clean-cut hole. What else could you have done? Go over to the neighbor's house in a grungy tank top and ripped shorts? Well, that's just crazy talk.