I woke up early this morning to discover a nice white covering on the ground outside our bedroom window: we had some substantial rain that changed to heavy snow late last night. With warming temperatures this morning, I’m concerned that we’ll soon have a thick layer of slush; and my snow blower is not terribly useful in heavy slush!
So, I quickly hopped out of bed, leaving my sleeping sweetheart undisturbed; snug and cozy. Running to the front door, I unlocked it, then opened the storm door while leaving the inner door ajar so that I could get back in. I stepped out on the stoop to see what I had to deal with. I turn around and see the cat at the window: he’s wondering if I’ll let him out. Putting my hand down to the ground, I find that the beautiful whiteness consists of ice and hard snow: not so fun with the snow blower – but better than slush!
I turn around and open the storm door. The inner door has already swung almost shut, but is not latched. Pulling open the storm door causes the air pressure to drop in the space between the two doors: “click!”
Drat! I’d locked myself out of the house. It’s 30 degrees. I’m outside in my stocking feet, sweat bottoms and a T-Shirt: standing in icy snow.
Oh well, no problem: I could ring the doorbell and wait, but my sweetie is still in that snug bed, and I don’t have to disturb her to get in the house anyway! Running along the bumpy and icy sidewalk, I get to the garage and punch in the entry code. The garage door begins to rise up. I quickly duck underneath into the garage, only to discover that there is meltwater on the floor near the car…
Lightly and quickly slopping along on my now-wet socks, I get to the door between the kitchen and the garage: also locked. Drat, again. The cat, anticipating my movements, is now on the other side of this door: looking through the window, still eager to be let out.
I have one more backup plan: the spare house key. I make more wet tracks as I retrace my steps to retrieve it from its hiding place in the garage.
Oh great: when we’d brought all the lawn furniture, toys and equipment in for the winter, I’d buried the spot where the key is hidden. I have to dig through a huge pile of stuff, standing in wet socks on a dirty floor, to find that *&^*^&$!!@ key: because, after all, I don’t want to disturb my sweetheart!
I eventually find it, squish back to the door unlock it, let the cat out, take off my cold wet socks, dry my feet, and then walk back into the bedroom to tell my now wide awake wife and son the whole story.
She laughs and laughs: “you could have rung the doorbell, I would’ve come and helped you!”
…And of course, after sampling the weather, the cat immediately wants to come back in.
Copyright (c) 2016, Allen Vander Meulen III, all rights reserved. I’m happy to share my writings with you, as long as proper credit for my authorship is given. (e.g., via a credit that gives my full name and/or provides a link back to this site – or just email me and ask!)
3 thoughts on “Too Nice for My Own Good”
Well, this is a life lesson. When to ask for help (ring the door bell) and when to just do it yourself. Sort of like praying to God for help or just deciding that you can do it on your own without help.
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Exactly, now you know where my thoughts are going for next week’s sermon!
Oh no! I’m shivering just reading this! Fun read! 😀
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