Monday afternoon, I started to go out to meet Ellie outside school, but I couldn’t find any keys to the house. I had one garage door remote, but for some reason, the door that it controls refuses to open. I don’t have time to figure out what’s wrong or to hunt for the keys, so I decide to leave the house unlocked and go to the school.
I met Ellie and chatted with the teacher for about 5 minutes or so. Ellie looked wiped, so I said, “Kiddo, let’s go home. I’ll give you a snack. You can plop yourself on the couch with a book, and you don’t even have to move for the rest of the night if you don’t want to.” With that, we left for home.
Beginning to end, I was away from the house 20 minutes tops.
Ellie’s plans for the afternoon didn’t quite pan out, for when we returned to the house, it was locked!
So there we were, standing on the stoop, which is fortunately covered. I was cursing under my breath. I decided to try the garage doors. Nope, they didn’t work either.
About this time, the neighbor walked up. Yep, you got it. The neighbor that Alan so graciously blew off! “Are you locked out?” he asked. I grimly nodded. “C’mon over.” he said. “We can’t leave you out in the rain.”
So for the next two hours, I tried to call someone… anyone… who could get me into the house. I called the realtor and asked if I could have the combination for the lockbox that is still hanging on our front door. She declined and said that she’s not really the realtor; only those showing the house have the combination. I called Alan, but he was in training. I tried his secretary, who said that she couldn’t interrupt a meeting unless someone was dying. I tried Alan’s boss, but he seemed to be in the training too.
The neighbor was a saint, though. He gave us a tour of his home, which apparently is the ‘other model’ in the neighborhood. Our house, it seems, was designed by a woman, which rather explains the ample closet, spacious kitchen, and windowsills on each of the windows.
Finally, my contact at the realtor office called back and said that a realtor was coming to meet me to let me in. I was grateful, to say the least, and went out on the front porch of the neighbor’s house to watch for the fellow. About this time, Ron’s wife pulled up. (I’m sure she was shocked to see a strange woman on her front steps!) She was kind as well and says I should come in and watch from the side window. Since I had been standing there for 15 minutes, I agreed.
About this time, Alan called back and said, “Oh, dear. I wish I’d checked my voice mail right after training.” (He had been out of training for 10 minutes.) He said that he was done for the day anyway, so he would come home.
About this time, a car pulled into my driveway. I rushed to put my shoes back on (I didn’t want to get my wet shoes on the neighbor’s carpet) and ran out. But by the time I got to my driveway, the guy had pulled out and was three houses down. And he wasn’t looking back to see the insane woman waving her arms wildly. The lockbox on the door was gone, though, and the door was still locked!
Thanks a whole freaking lot!
So I returned to the neighbor’s until Alan showed up at about 5:45. (Good thing he showed up too, because the neighbor was having guilt fits over needing to leave for a party while we still couldn’t get into our house.)
When Alan unlocked the front door and we walked in, we both inspected the door to see how on earth I locked myself out. We came to the same conclusion.
The door has two deadbolts on it, and the doorknob doesn’t have a lock at all. Deadbolts have to be set from the inside or from the outside with a key. There is no way I could have locked myself out!
The best we can figure is that a realtor must have come in to show the house (like the one a couple days before), realized that it was already leased, and then locked the door with the key in the lockbox.