Friday Funny- It Was Bound To Happen

You will never believe what happened to me the other morning. Well, if you've been a regular reader here, you probably will, and you will also know it's pretty much par for the course.

The Hub is a restless sleeper. He tosses a large portion of the night. He also talks in his sleep. He doesn't just mumble, either. He holds demos and board meetings. I have learned more about Microsoft CRM and shipping methods at 2 AM than a girl has a right to know. Or wants to know. Particularly at 2 AM. All of this activity makes it a bit hard for me to sleep. You see, once I'm awake, I'm awake. The infinite music loop begins playing in my head and I can't shut it off. So to actually sleep, I go to the couch in the basement. I like it there. It's a little chillier, huge pillows and completely dark. I can shut the TV off and fall asleep (and that, my dear readers, is an entirely different post....). So the other night I slept on the couch. So far, I'm fine, right?

Well, in the B House, we have these locks on the door to the basement and the outside doors. You see, my Z1 was quite the escape artist at the ages of 2-5. Yes, he IS the reason a 20-year veteran of preschool teaching had to put bells on her door. The boy understands stealth. He's 9 now, and we still have these locks on the door. We figure if someone tries to get in the walk-out basement and come upstairs, well, when they try the door, they'll be quite surprised at the sound it makes while alerting us that all is not right in the basement. It also keeps the kids out of the basement playing video games before we get up in the morning.

Back to sleeping on the couch... So The Hub had to get up very early to take his mother to the hospital. She was having a small surgery, which she came through swimmingly, and he had to leave at 4:45 in the morning. He comes downstairs in his sleep deprived stupor and sees the door opened. I always leave it open when I sleep downstairs so the kids know where to find me if they need something. Well, again, in his haze, he thought,"Why is that door opened? I better close it." He closed it. And he locked it. Now this is not a normal lock that one can pick. It's a lock at the top of the door that slides over the door. There's no getting around this lock without busting the door down.

It's now 6:30 AM and I have toddled up the stairs. I turn the door knob and push. The door makes a loud clamor but refuses to open. I try again. And one more time. I bang on the door loudly, thinking I will alert my early riser children. Of course, they pick this particular morning to sleep in an extra hour. AARRGH! Having my cell phone in hand (I use the alarm), I text The Hub. Let's just say, it was not the most pleasant of conversations.

So how am I typing this, you ask? How did I finally get out of the basement? Since neither of my children could hear me, I decided a girl's gotta do what she's gotta do. I wrapped myself up in the soccer blanket, said a quick prayer that none of the neighbors would see me, and I walked around the side of the house and let myself in through the garage. Thankfully, that entry has a code and the inside door was not locked. Or maybe I should say, thankfully for The Hub. Still, all in all, it beats being locked in the bathroom. But that's another post entirely as well.

Yours, thinking I might get a hide-a-key rock,

Melissa