Please, no autographs.

I'm not a braggart and tend to shy away from those of braggadocios demeanor because I find them generally too self absorbed to do the right thing by people. That being said, let me tell you how awesome I am.

This morning after dropping Elijah off at the bus stop, Zach, Amelia and I made the long arduous (one block) journey back to the homestead only to find that we had been locked out. The side door to our home contains original hardware installed in 1939 including a self locking latch which, up to now, had only burned me once (It was a week after moving into our house and was snowing at the time, but I will tell you no more for I do not wish for that story to outshine my experience today). I am forced to conclude that people were generally more responsible back in 1939 and always had their keys in their pocket when they pulled the door shut, otherwise I see no reason for the builders to have included such a sadistic piece of hardware in a door most conducive to becoming the primary exit...but I digress.

As Murphy would have it, today's lockout occurred on a cold wet morning the day after the end of our Indian (oops, I mean Native American) summer. It was literally thirty degrees warmer and 100% dryer yesterday afternoon, so, in the last 24 hours, we have had to run both the air and heat. Amelia and Zach were still in their PJ's without shoes, so I quickly set them both up in their seats in the truck to keep them warm while I came up with a plan.

My first attempt at breaking in involved the use of a couple long metal pins I procured from the garage. Have any of you ever seen a cops and robbers movie where the burglar takes two metal rods, inserts them into a deadbolt, and somehow manages to open the door in two seconds flat? Let me share with you my stunning realization that I am either not cut out for a life of crime or those movie producers are a bunch of snotty faced liars. I succeeded only in wasting five minutes and learning a valuable lesson.

My next plan was to grab the doorknob and shake it forcibly to see if I could coerce the latch to open after it saw how desperate I was. As you probably guessed, the latch and I are still not friends. Another minute went down the drain.

Then I remembered that there was a window near the back of the house which I had opened a few days before to air out the horrible smell of something I had mis-cooked: I think it was a bratwurst, which would make sense seeing as how I am the only non-German in the family. Quickly, I ran to the back of the house and found that the window was in fact unlocked. Within five minutes I had popped out the screen, knocked everything off the window sill, squeezed through the small opening, and touched down onto the kitchen floor. In my excitement I let out a disturbingly loud and very redneck sounding "wha-hoo" at having accessed the impenetrable fortress that is my home without the aid of a locksmith or wife.

Immediately, I hurried to the truck to get the kids who were quite confused about being put in their seats without driving anywhere. They seemed to be happy about getting back inside where the warm air was, though.

...and then I deactivated the self latching door, quite possibly for the last time.