I grasp the door handle and twist. It doesn’t move. The door doesn’t open. But I’ve woken the dog which is jumping at the other side of the door and barking to wake the dead.
The people I’m house-sitting for promised to leave the door open and the keys inside with the dog. But here I am, outside the door and there the keys are, inside, on the table with the dog food. Take a deep breath, I tell myself, stay calm, be sensible. Or, better still, ask yourself what Ellen would do. Actually, better than that, call your sister and ask her. Otherwise when you tell her later she’ll say, “You should have….”
I pull out my mobile. “I’m locked out!” I wail when she answers. So much for calm and sensible. “I’m supposed to be house-sitting but they’ve locked the doors and I can’t get in. They’re halfway to Bali and it’s raining and the dog’s inside going crazy. What can I do?”
Ellen laughs. Of course, she laughs. It’s my job in life to do the dumb things and Ellen’s job to laugh. But to her credit, once she’s stopped laughing she usually has the answer. I can hear her tapping on her computer keyboard as I rant in her ear, but eventually she’s found what she’s looking for – or what I’m looking for.
“Okay,” she says, in her usual annoying, I can’t believe you needed me to tell you this, way. “Have you got a pen?”
I refrain from saying I’m a teacher. Of course I have a pen. In fact, I have dozens of pens. I just have to find a piece of paper. When I manage to unearth an old supermarket docket, Ellen gives me two phone numbers for locksmiths with addresses nearby.
“Call the first one and tell them the problem,” she says. “If they won’t help, try the second one. Call me back if you need to.”
I hear her laughing as she hangs up. Typical. This sort of thing never happens to Ellen. I’m always the one with the problem and she’s always the one with the solution. Smart, practical Ellen would never find herself in this situation.
I call the first number and, of course, Ellen’s right. The locksmith will send someone to let me in. And it’s no consolation to hear that this sort of thing happens to people all the time. Not to Ellen, it doesn’t.
Two hours and $150 later, I am finally inside the house. The dog’s been fed, the rain’s stopped and I’m heading for the shower with a smile on my face. The gorgeous blond locksmith with the sexy brown eyes is picking me up in an hour. We’re taking the dog for a walk and going for a drink after.
That sort of thing doesn’t happen to Ellen either.
The people I’m house-sitting for promised to leave the door open and the keys inside with the dog. But here I am, outside the door and there the keys are, inside, on the table with the dog food. Take a deep breath, I tell myself, stay calm, be sensible. Or, better still, ask yourself what Ellen would do. Actually, better than that, call your sister and ask her. Otherwise when you tell her later she’ll say, “You should have….”
I pull out my mobile. “I’m locked out!” I wail when she answers. So much for calm and sensible. “I’m supposed to be house-sitting but they’ve locked the doors and I can’t get in. They’re halfway to Bali and it’s raining and the dog’s inside going crazy. What can I do?”
Ellen laughs. Of course, she laughs. It’s my job in life to do the dumb things and Ellen’s job to laugh. But to her credit, once she’s stopped laughing she usually has the answer. I can hear her tapping on her computer keyboard as I rant in her ear, but eventually she’s found what she’s looking for – or what I’m looking for.
“Okay,” she says, in her usual annoying, I can’t believe you needed me to tell you this, way. “Have you got a pen?”
I refrain from saying I’m a teacher. Of course I have a pen. In fact, I have dozens of pens. I just have to find a piece of paper. When I manage to unearth an old supermarket docket, Ellen gives me two phone numbers for locksmiths with addresses nearby.
“Call the first one and tell them the problem,” she says. “If they won’t help, try the second one. Call me back if you need to.”
I hear her laughing as she hangs up. Typical. This sort of thing never happens to Ellen. I’m always the one with the problem and she’s always the one with the solution. Smart, practical Ellen would never find herself in this situation.
I call the first number and, of course, Ellen’s right. The locksmith will send someone to let me in. And it’s no consolation to hear that this sort of thing happens to people all the time. Not to Ellen, it doesn’t.
Two hours and $150 later, I am finally inside the house. The dog’s been fed, the rain’s stopped and I’m heading for the shower with a smile on my face. The gorgeous blond locksmith with the sexy brown eyes is picking me up in an hour. We’re taking the dog for a walk and going for a drink after.
That sort of thing doesn’t happen to Ellen either.