I had to break into my own house yesterday...
So my roommie was out for the night on Sats, so Sunday a.m. right before I headed to home # 2 to pick up some more topsoil and pretty posies I left a note in case he came home while I’m out and about.When I get back, I see his car there so I head in to get changed into my lawn frassin’ garb when…Oops! My front door won’t open. I leaned on the doorbell for hours, knocked, threw my shoulder into the door. (Right...break it down, P) And I even got a little worried. (Was 'Bean okay? Did the old roommate show up and change my locks?) FORtunately, I was able to pop the window screen in the front (Thankfully the window was open) pushed in the couch, and slid in all ninja like. (Raking my frassin’ scratched shin on the window sill. That’ll wake ya up in the morning)
I gently bounded up stairs to make sure the ‘Bean was alive….and there he was. Passed out. Belly moving.
“’Bean?” said I.
The man didn’t bat an eye.
Gone to the world.
Later I told him all about it (Much to his guilt and chagrin) and informed him that our deadbolt works like a charm, and that he should try not too take the issue of home safety so seriously.
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