What if I’d gone out for Starbucks?
There I was yesterday morning, running a little late, eating my oatmeal behind schedule, when I heard my husband calling me from the bathroom with a certain semi-urgent tone I’m not used to. I’m also not used to being summoned to the bathroom, period–usually we’re sort of every man for himself in that area.
“Can you open the door?” he asks me.
I jiggle the knob. “No.”
Expletive. More fiddling with the knob from his side.
“Go get a credit card,” he says. “Do you know how to break in with that?”
Clearly we’ve never met.
But I give it a try, and I’m sorry, but it is not as easy as it looks in the movies. Or maybe our particular flimsy bathroom doorknobs are specially designed to thwart burglars.
My next instructions were to go get his glasses and a flat-headed screwdriver, and meet him at the window. After some maneuvering there, I managed to pass them through.
More jiggling and deconstruction from his end, and meanwhile our puppy-brained self-appointed guard dog realizes someone is trying to break into the house from the bathroom, so he’s standing outside the door with his hackles up, barking his head off. My husband is saying, “It’s okay, it’s me,” but Bear isn’t buying it.
I keep telling him, “Good boy,” because I don’t want to discourage him from ever attacking someone who really is trying to get into the house using reading glasses and a flat-headed screwdriver.
Finally the doorknob pops to the ground. Saved!
Once the crisis was over, and our heartrates returned to normal, and Bear’s fur smoothed out and he went to get a bone to shove in my husband’s face to prove all was forgiven, we had a chance to reflect on what had just happened.
What if I’d gone to Starbucks? What if I’d been off at the zoo doing research or something? Now I feel like it’s not safe to leave the house until everybody is accounted for, all doors are opened, the dog has his bone, etc.
Whew.
Just out of curiosity, anyone else ever had this problem before?
Technorati Tags: Bathroom Fixtures, Starbucks
December 14th, 2006 at 6:57 am
Our good friends have a bathroom where the door can only be opened from the inside if you turn the knob a certain way. It’s become almost a game at all parties at their house to see who will fail to turn the knob right and get stuck. There’s always at least one.
And because no one who reads this blog can contradict me, I’m gong to say here that it’s never been me.
December 14th, 2006 at 7:43 am
Sure, Diana, we’ll stick to that story for now.
On a completely unrelated note, I’ve been meaning to invite some of your friends to come join us on the blog. What are their names again?
December 14th, 2006 at 8:45 am
I am SO disappointed in you. I broke into my house using my AAA membership card VERY easily. Clearly you need a lesson in basic larceny.
December 14th, 2006 at 8:45 am
If had had been in your shoes I’d have gone for the coffee first. After all, caffeine would have helped clear my head. Then after getting back, walked the dog. After all, your husband is stuck in the bathroom, has water and I’m sure reading material. The dog on the other hand needs the walk. Oh what’s that pounding sound? I almost forgot…
We have a spirit that lives with us. You know those how the heck did that get there or happen. One evening just before going to bed I had turned down the thermostat down to 60. Suddenly in the middle of the night we both wake up. The room temperature is sweltering. I check the thermostat and its at 85. It had to be our house spirit who has a twisted sense of humor.
December 14th, 2006 at 10:22 am
our first house was a charming bungalow circa 1918. although we had extensively remodeled, all doors in the house had skeleton key locks including the bathroom. a bathroom door which had never been locked until our then 3 year old son appropriated a key and bastioned himself and his like-aged cousin in the bathroom for the apparent purpose of going through the linen cupboard to build a fort. we had a house full of guests when lynnie (the niece) realized she was imprisoned and started screaming so loudly we expected cps to show up at any minute. in response to the attempts by every adult present to coax her into turning the key she would wail, punctuated by gulping sobs, “help me please, oh please someone help me”. the same request to our son was met with a simple, “no”, and we could hear him soto voce saying to lynnie, ” stop crying, it’s fun in here, hey look what i found, you want some?” then the bath water started to run.
rescue came in the form of my husband removing the skylight and entering the bathroom through the roof. on the other side of the door we could hear lynnie’s cries of relief and our son say, “hi daddy, how’d you get in here?”
December 14th, 2006 at 10:51 am
Barry, don’t act like you’re such a tough guy. I’m sure you used your AAA card to CALL AAA and beg them to come get you out.
Herb, excellent point about him having sufficient reading material in there. I may have failed to mention that there’s also a phone, because you never know when you’ll need to take that important call while you’re . . . you know.
Annette, love that story. I’m sure Lynnie still can’t use the bathroom with the door closed.
December 14th, 2006 at 11:13 am
I feel for Lynnie. I had a similar problem after reading that Stephen King story about the finger sticking out of the sink. I’m over it now… mostly.
December 14th, 2006 at 12:48 pm
NO! I’ve never locked my wife in a bathroom and pretended it was an accident. (Read through the lies people)
If this was an ‘accident’, then you have to think ‘How would Annette handle this?’
1. Yell “Move back from the door”
2. Draw your berretta and take two steps back.
3. Unload a full clip into the door at random points.
4. Retrieve additional clip from the dresser and reload
5. Fire at door handle
6. Run outside because you hear helicopters
7. Shoot at black helicopter cause clearly the white one is trying to help.
8. Dive into jeep
9. Check for keys, find them, then hot wire anyway by shooting the dashboard.
10. Drive to starbucks
11. Jump out of jeep while it is still moving and roll across the parking lot.
Well, at this point, you kind of have to wait in line like everyone else.
December 14th, 2006 at 1:07 pm
Wow! I kinda want to lock myself, or Patrick, in the bathroom just to see Annette do this!
I’ve never been locked in a bathroom, but I have been locked in a very dark, very small confessional in a church as a young child. I still break out in a sweat thinking about it and about the priest and nun who ‘rescued’ me.
December 14th, 2006 at 2:38 pm
True story…..I was also trapped in the bathroom - alone in the house. So, what should I do? My house, built in 1956 has the wonderful casement windows, yes crank the handle to get the window open. Well, fortunately for me, the window leads into the Arizona room and not to the outside like it once had back in 1956. So, I cranked it as far as I could and balanced on the edge of the tub and hoisted myself up. Not an easy task I might add because the ledge of the window is only 4 inches wide and the opening is only 12 inches wide by 22 inches tall (yes I measured). I was able to squeeze through the window and drop the 5 feet into the AZ room with minor damage. Finally using the familiar flathead screwdriver trick I managed to open the door. The faulty door now has since been replaced.
The moral of the story, never go to the bathroom alone in your house, without your cell phone, wearing only your nighty. Who would have thought we had to take so many precautions?
December 14th, 2006 at 2:43 pm
Michele, I especially like the part of the moral involving wearing your nighty. I don’t think I’ve heard that term in a long, long time, and it actually made me laugh out loud. Thank you.
Deborah, being trapped in a confessional when you’re a young child sounds worse than any Stephen King novel. Must have required plenty of therapy to get over that.
Patrick, speaking of laughing . . .
December 14th, 2006 at 5:24 pm
patrick, you’ve got me down pat. (how’d you know it’s a berretta?) deborah i feel so bad for you. if it ever happens again give me a call and i’ll shoot you out, even if i have to take a priest or two down in the process.
i think the moral to these tales is “preparedness”. do not go to the bathroom, a confessional or starbucks without being fully clothed with (if you live in an area of inclement weather) some outerwear susceptible to “layering”, a handgun, a AAA card (or equivalent), a cell phone, flathead screw driver, latest edition of sports illustrated (or new york times crossword puzzle, depending on one’s taste) and, personally, i go nowhere without my night-vision goggles.
December 15th, 2006 at 6:05 am
Hour 2 - 10:01 AM
(These things seem to always take 24 hours)
1. Check watch impatiently.
2. Draw Glock and shout “Put down the attitude and give me my Vente Latte!”" regardless of the fact that you are fourth in line.
3. Grab what ever drink is being handed to the first person and run out the door to the sound of helicopters.
4. Watch the jeep explode in a hail of .50 Cal shells from the helicopter.
5. Shoot the sliding door of a passing soccer mom mini-van hitting the electronic open switch so the door slides open smoothly.
6. Dive in the mini-van as the white helicopter chase the black helicopter away.
7. Discover soccer mom is a man, slap him with handle of the glock and kick him out of van.
8. Place Vente Latte in cup holder
9. Accelerate to top velocity in reverse to chase the helicopters
10. A lear jet lands on a private airfield on the outskirts of NY city.
10:59 AM
December 15th, 2006 at 6:27 am
Patrick, I enjoy your world.
December 15th, 2006 at 8:04 am
as do i.
December 23rd, 2006 at 9:54 pm
It could’ve been worse– the toilet could have overflowed just then, too. THAT would be fun.
There is definitely such a thing as too much adventure.