If you're locked out, maybe there's a reason.

I had a late night at work tonight and all I wanted to do when I got home was put on my p.j.'s, eat some dinner, watch some t.v. to mind-numb myself, and cuddle with my cats as I fell peacefully asleep.

That did not happen.

I got to my apartment door o.k. It was getting in that was the problem. My key wouldn't work. And before you think I'm a total idiot, yes, I had the correct key. And yes, I was using it properly.

My first thought was, "Do the cats have the capability to call a lock smith and change the locks on me? I know they're pissed off at me for yelling at them from 10PM to 12AM to please stop running all over the damn place! You sound like a herd of elephants!" Then I realized, unless they're hiding it from me, they can't talk. And they can't dial a phone, logically. Wouldn't it be great if pets could talk? "You're feeding me that? I'm sick of that. I think I'll throw it up all over your mother's quilt." "Pay attention to me! Pay attention to me!" "I'm in heat. Where's a tom-cat?" Oh, the things they would say!

But back on topic. Luckily, my neighbor was home and had the illustrious maintenance man, Tim's, cell phone number. And luckily again, he answered. And luckily again, he came right over and was able to use his master key to get me in. My key apparently sucks & hates me & doesn't want me to enter my home.

God bless Tim. And God bless knowing thieves won't be able to easily break into my apartment, if I can't even get in with a key!