From the outside looking in...

Hey, look! Keys!

Surely you see whether this is heading.

This morning on my way out the door I had my hands full.  I had my lunch, my travel mug, a soft-sided cooler that I had borrowed from a friend at work and my laptop.  Notice anything missing?  A purse, perhaps?

Indeed.

Of course, as it always happens, you realize you've locked your keys inside the very moment the door clicks shut.  And of course this is the morning you've taken an extra moment to ensure that the door is locked from the inside before even reaching in to close the door, rather than testing the lock once the door is closed.

And quite suddenly, your purse shoulder feels remarkably empty.  (Or pocket, for the gents.)

Remaining quite calm, I decide to toss my armload into the car so that I don't have to leave my work laptop on the front porch while attempting to infiltrate my house through a window.  Turns out you need keys to get into the car.  Figures.

(I will, at this moment, offer a brief sidebar regarding the many times I've actually attempted to use my key fob to unlock the front door.  Someone really needs to invent that convenience.  Perhaps they already have?)

I carefully tuck my valuables out of sight and set off in search for the best window through which to climb.  This is probably an opportune moment to mention the lovely heat wave we've been experiencing.  A quick walk to the back of the house causes my hair to curl quite (un)attractively. I won't mention the specific places where sweat begins to form small puddles.

I decide on the kitchen window.  Confident that my shrinking frame could in fact fit through the window, I tuck a (somewhat) sturdy set of lawn chairs beneath it, pluck the screen from the window and take a deep breath.  Many deep breaths, in fact, which gradually turn to grunting, sighing and (quite possibly) the occasional whine of frustration.

Now strictly speaking, I don't think I was incorrect in assuming that my body could fit through that window.  If the window was resting on the ground, I am confident I could successfully wiggle through and rescue both purse and hair.  Four feet off the ground is a different story, I'm afraid.  And with nothing on the exterior of the house to grasp and absolutely no leverage, I was either going to get wedged tightly into the window frame, cause serious temporary damage to certain cherished parts of my anatomy or land squarely on my noggin.

By this time my elderly neighbour lady is standing hesitantly on her back porch wondering whether she needs to call 911.  Sacha has also joined the party thinking that I am generously opening a new way for her to enjoy the sweet outdoors.  The hair that had previously started to curl has taken on a life of its own and the sweat...  let's not go there...

I throw in the towel.  Not literally of course, since the towel is in the house and I am on the outside looking in thinking how nice it would be to actually have a towel with which to mop my face.  Back to the front of the house I go and, after a quick check on my belongings, I decide to ask my elderly neighbour whether I can borrow her phone, assuming she wasn't already using it to alert the authorities of the inept and surprisingly noisy burglar next door.

I call my sister.  Thankfully, she is home, sympathetic of my plight but with dismay reminds me that she doesn't have a copy of our house key.

"No," I agree, "but perhaps I could borrow one of your small children?"

She agrees this is a good plan and promises to come post haste.  I decide to wait for her in the air-conditioned comfort of my car.  Or... not. I nose about the front flower beds instead and bemoan the existence of bindweed.  You can well imagine what wonders ten minutes of weeding did to the hair.  The other?  Small lakes at this point.

My nephew popped through that window effortlessly and my purse and I sang with glee at our reunion.  To celebrate, I had two more showers and crawled back into my air conditioned bedroom for a three hour nap.  Or... fought unsuccessfully with my hair, changed my clothes and zipped off to work.

The air-conditioned nap would have been a much sweeter ending to such an eventful morning...