Locked Up

I was waiting for a locksmith to come over this afternoon. By the time he was forty-five minutes late, I was getting annoyed. I had a nap with my name on it waiting for me!

The trouble started sometime last year, I guess. When it's especially humid or damp my lock siezes up and I can't get my key to go in. I stand at my door, often with my legs twisted together and hopping up and down because I need to get inside to pee, or getting more and more flipped out because my lock is going to make me late for work. I force my key to have rough lock-sex with the door. Crunchy grinding lock sex, while I stand there alternately cursing and kicking my door. And then, after a couple days, the lock will ease up and accept my key willingly and I'll forget about it for awhile.

But this past week has been wraught with violent lock sex, and Friday morning I just gave up and left my door unlocked and headed to work. I'd been swearing at the doorknob for fifteen minutes already. So we called a locksmith who was supposed to show up around noon today. After wating for about an hour and a half, I called Jane who called the locksmith who said he'd forgotten - but he'd be right over.

And he was. In about three minutes. And three minutes after that -with a shot of WD-40 and some tickling of the lock with what looked like an oversized paper clip, my key was sliding in and out like...well,...something. I gave him ten bucks and he left me to my nap. And to think I could have solved the lock problem so easily a year ago already! Duuuuuh!