a good journal entry
I was getting ready this morning and, as usual, Marian was following me around, running in and out of the bathroom and slamming the door. So after she had closed the bathroom door (with her inside and me outside) another time, I went to open it and it wouldn't open. It's a stubborn door, so I started putting more weight into it and eventually was basically throwing my whole body against the door. Not even a budge.
Now, here is where I need to make a confession. I never lock the bathroom door. In my house growing up, the lock on the upstairs bathroom door didn't work. It opened just as if it weren't locked even if you did lock it, so there was no use bothering. After living there most of my life I developed this horrible habit of not locking the bathroom door. So anyway, I honestly didn't even remember there being a lock on the bathroom door because I never look for one. But it was quite obvious that there was one since the door was belligerently not moving.
At this point I called Adam who was supposed to start class in 5 minutes. I told him that I would try getting in the window using the ladder. In his firmest, most threatening voice told me no and that he'd be home in 10 minutes. So for the next 10 minutes I lay on the ground looking through the one-inch space between the door and the floor (the house is 105 years old) at Marian, who was having a great time and totally oblivious to the trouble she caused. She thought it was great lying on the bathroom floor trying to squish her face under the door to give me kisses.
Eventually Adam (in this situation he may prefer to be called Batman) came to the rescue. He climbed up the rickety old ladder, took off the screen, and slithered through the window. (Luckily he'd opened the bathroom window this morning.) At his dramatic entrance, Marian looked at him and said, "Whoa Dadda!"
Lessons I learned: 1 Our bathroom door does have a lock. 2 It's not that hard to break into a house. 3 It's great having a super-hero husband.
Now, here is where I need to make a confession. I never lock the bathroom door. In my house growing up, the lock on the upstairs bathroom door didn't work. It opened just as if it weren't locked even if you did lock it, so there was no use bothering. After living there most of my life I developed this horrible habit of not locking the bathroom door. So anyway, I honestly didn't even remember there being a lock on the bathroom door because I never look for one. But it was quite obvious that there was one since the door was belligerently not moving.
At this point I called Adam who was supposed to start class in 5 minutes. I told him that I would try getting in the window using the ladder. In his firmest, most threatening voice told me no and that he'd be home in 10 minutes. So for the next 10 minutes I lay on the ground looking through the one-inch space between the door and the floor (the house is 105 years old) at Marian, who was having a great time and totally oblivious to the trouble she caused. She thought it was great lying on the bathroom floor trying to squish her face under the door to give me kisses.
Eventually Adam (in this situation he may prefer to be called Batman) came to the rescue. He climbed up the rickety old ladder, took off the screen, and slithered through the window. (Luckily he'd opened the bathroom window this morning.) At his dramatic entrance, Marian looked at him and said, "Whoa Dadda!"
Lessons I learned: 1 Our bathroom door does have a lock. 2 It's not that hard to break into a house. 3 It's great having a super-hero husband.
Comments
Let's hope I don't have to call Adam to come rescue Scotty!
I'm not sure if you could quite understand Abby's message on your phone Sunday morning, but she was telling you thank you for the bunnies. She really likes them! She had me take pictures of her with the whole bunny family today (2 bunnies at a time). That was so cute of you to send those.
Love ya! --Bobbie