On Saturday, Daisy, Hank and I went to go see a concert/fireworks show here in S.F. called Kaboom with Liz and Larry. A good time was had by all (or at least me). Afterwards, at around 10:00pm, well after Daisy's bedtime, Liz and Larry dropped us off in front of our house.
I pulled the gate open and... nothing. I pulled a little harder on the gate. I pulled as hard as my keyboard-and-mouse hardened muscles could, but the gate wouldn't budge.
"Gah! The gate's stuck!" I whined. Daisy instantly burst into tears.
The gate in question is several feet in front of the front door to the house. I'm not sure what the area between the gate and the door is called. It's not a foyer or a breezeway or an orgyhole, but it was separating us from our cozy wozy beds. A couple of years ago one of Daisy's more exuberant friends slammed the gate really hard and broke the lock. So, you can still lean the gate shut, and it LOOKS like it's locked, but the lock hasn't worked since that day. In fact, ever since Hank's purse got stolen a year ago, and we re-keyed our locks, we haven't even bothered to carry the key for the gate. It's been that broken. Completely unlockable. 100%.
There is an electronic release button that unlocks the gate, but it's hidden inside an old mail slot, several feet into the entryway/breezeway/foyer/orgyhole. I stuck my longest arm through an opening in the gate and flailed wildly at the slot. I was nearly a foot short.
We were locked out.
We flagged down Liz and Larry before they got away and explained that we were sort of locked out of our house. We hoped that Larry might be able to help us out.
You see, one of the ways I organize my life is to surround myself with useful people. It's good to have small friends who can fit into small places, strong friends who can lift stuff, friends with extra chocolate chip cookies, friends who are handy with speculums, etc.
Larry's Super Friend Power is that he's really tall. Also, he's probably the nicest guy I know, and easily one of the smartest, blah blah blah. Most importantly, he has nice long arms. We explained our dilemma to him, and pointed out the distant button that would rescue us from our homelessness.
Larry stretched, and stretched, and just baaaaarely hit the button. I promptly yanked the gate with all my programmer might, and it popped open (and sort of dislocated Larry's shoulder, but he's tough). Hurray! Daisy wiped her tears and we went off to bed, thankful for tall friends.
On Sunday morning I removed the lock from the gate. It seemed easier than carrying around the stupid key.