Oh, Roger! Why do you do these things?! I came home for lunch today. I don't get to do that every day, so I was pretty happy about it. That quickly changed when one of my more random, less probable fears was realized: Roger had locked himself into my bedroom.
As you can see, to lock the door is a simple flick of a switch and presto, privacy. However, to unlock it, one must turn the porcelain knob from the inside. On my side, the living room side, there is only a hole above the knob for a "key." Now, I know from my many years as an amateur babysitter that responsible parents keep the key on the frame above the door for just such an occurrence. However, I am not one of those responsible parents. Also, I don't even have a key for it.
After trying such genius materials as a pen cap, paperclip, and screwdriver, I ran down to Marla, who once again saved the day, this time by lending me a wire coat hanger. I was able to pop it open, and Roger smiled and danced, oblivious to the peril he had so recently been in, wondering only why I had waited so long to open the door.
And that, Matt, is why I go home at lunch.
After trying such genius materials as a pen cap, paperclip, and screwdriver, I ran down to Marla, who once again saved the day, this time by lending me a wire coat hanger. I was able to pop it open, and Roger smiled and danced, oblivious to the peril he had so recently been in, wondering only why I had waited so long to open the door.
And that, Matt, is why I go home at lunch.
1 comment:
Lol, That's hilarious and makes one hell of a story for the day.
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