The Ultimate Laundry Mishap

It was about an hour into Sam's afternoon nap. I'd already cleaned the kitchen and done some online reading about my new-to-me bread machine that I acquired this morning (for $10!). I decided it was time to get some ironing done.

I pulled out my ironing pile, took the board off that back of the laundry room board and set it up in my bedroom. I got out the iron, plugged it in, and filled it with water. I went back into the laundry room to grab the magic sizing, and as I reached for it I heard the door close. Instantly I realized what had just happened: I'd locked myself in the laundry room. Never had the notion of being held prisoner by the laundry rung more true.

You see, our house is 90 years old and has some additions to its original footprint. Houses like this have, shall we say, quirks. Ours is no exception. Our laundry room is off of our master bedroom (trust me, its actually really convenient, most of the time). The laundry room also has a glass panel door to the outside. Because of this second door, we've always kept the door between our room and the laundry room locked - with the kind of knob that has the twist button in the center to be easily locked from one side, but a key is needed on the other.

So I find myself on the side of the door that requires a key. Like a fool, I try to open the door, thinking that maybe this time it didn't lock when it latched. It did. I turn to look at the door to the outside - I'll go out that door and back in the side door that I know is unlocked. Let me just undo this lock, and this one, turn the handle and...there's a deadbolt at the top. For which I do not have a key.

Ok, I'm really stuck in here. My phone is plugged in on the nightstand. I look at the fire alarm - maybe if I set it off the firemen will come?! No, our security system is monitored and none of my neighbors are home during the day. Ok, think. How bad is this? Well, its 2:00 - Sam will sleep for another one to two hours. Chris will be home another two hours after that. Worst case is the kid screams in his crib for three hours until Chris gets home. Or today is the day he learns to climb out of his crib. Neither situation sounds appealing to me. But for the moment, he is safe. But I just plugged the iron in - what if it starts a fire? No, they shut off automatically.

I need a plan. There is always the option to break the glass in the exterior door, but something tells me Chris wouldn't appreciate that. File that under "last resort." Gotta get one of the doors open. Must find tools. In a laundry room? I'll tell you, there were no tools. But there was a sewing box with safety pins and a seam ripper.

I begin my attempts to pick the interior lock with my safety pin. I half expected it to just pop open, like you always see happen on tv. The thing is, I don't know how to pick a lock! I fiddle around, and I can feel something moving in there, but the lock isn't budging. I tried picking the deadbolt on the other door - that definitely wasn't going to happen. Back to door one.

My safety pin wasn't getting me anywhere, so I pondered the seam ripper. I grew concerned that jamming it into the lock could break my seam ripper. "You can buy a new one - your child is alone on the other side of that locked door, you moron!" Ok, ok, into the lock it went. It wasn't working either.

Back to door number two. The seam ripper was useless there as well. I pondered the hinges on both doors. Surely I could just pop the hinges out, pop the door off, and be free. "With what tools?!" I actually half attempted this with the scissors that were in my sewing box, but the hinges had been painted over since the doors were hung and it was clear they weren't going anywhere without REAL tools.

I thought again about breaking the glass, and realized even if I wanted to that would be difficult with the lack of tools in my current possession. And the mess! I settled on the notion that picking the interior lock was going to be my only way out. I had at least 45 minutes until Sam would wake up, so just keep trying. Just keep trying.

As I kept trying, I prayed that God would get me out. Then I thought how wonderful it would be if someone happened to drop by right now. I have one friend who needed to return something to me, maybe she would drop by. I have another friend who never knocks when she comes over - that would be ideal! I looked out the glass paneled door, and neither was there.

About 20 minutes into my adventure, the seam ripper broke.

I kept trying to pick the lock. I was getting really hot. Did I mention that the add-on laundry room isn't climate controlled, and its June, in Houston? And by this point I'd broken my thumbnail too. To be honest, I really thought that eventually I'd get that door open. And I'd have this great McGyver-esk story to tell about freeing myself with nothing but a safety pin and a seam ripper - a broken seam ripper.

I think because I really believed this, I was never really scared. I probably should have been. And maybe in another 30 minutes I would have been. But then it happened.

I looked out the door again and I saw someone walking along the sidewalk. He's singing and swinging his 7-up bottle. My mind begins to race: He's a crazy person (there are lots in our neighborhood. Including one guy who runs around in a pink tutu - yes a grown man. But that's another post). Maybe, maybe not, but he's probably my only shot. Do I do it? I think I have to.

I start banging on the door. My crazy man turns, looks at me and waves, then keeps walking. NO!!! I start banging again. He looks at me again. I start to motion for him to walk towards me. He looked confused, and then he starts to walk towards me. As he's walking I realize that he's not a crazy man, but a 13 year old boy who was walking home from Summer School.

He comes right up to the door and says "Hello!" I tell him that I'm locked in this room, he puts his ear to the glass to hear better. I repeat myself. He looks confused. I tell him to go through the unlocked side door, come to the back corner of the house, and open the door. He agrees. I watch him through the glass until I can't see him anymore.

I freak out. I just invited a complete stranger into my home while I am locked in the laundry room and my baby is sleeping in his crib. This stranger could steal my baby, my things. A few moments later I hear him call out "hello?" "Back here!" I yell through the door. "Oh..." A few more moments. He should be here by now, its a small house! "In the back corner" I yell to him. "Oh I see!" I hear in reply. A moment later he opens the door. I am free.

I thank him profusely, explaining at the same time how the door locks from the other side. Its no use though, I certainly look like the crazy one in this situation. He happily replies that its no problem, and trots back through the door he entered by.

And just like that my savior and his 7-up were gone. My ordeal was over. All in all it only lasted 27 minutes. It felt like an eternity.

So what are the morals to this story:
1. Laundry is dangerous? Ehh, probably not.
2. Its best to always leave one door in your house unlocked? Under most circumstances, no.
3. Always feel free to invite strangers off the street into your home? Usually not the BEST idea.
4. Don't keep your laundry room door locked? Probably not a practical application for most.
5. Just because you're a 13 year old boy stuck in summer school doesn't mean you aren't the answer to someone's prayer? Yeah, that sounds good.

The Lord is good for sending a sane, friendly boy to rescue me. And it turns out, he wasn't even cutting it close. I still had time to finish my ironing and type this post before Sam woke up from his nap.