Under lock and key

I was almost homeless.

OK, only for a night. And, lucky for me, Valerie and Paul just moved in two blocks down the street, but still. Homeless. Almost.

When I left for work Monday night (I’m still not used to this late shift) my mind was elsewhere. On laundry and a wreath, actually. So when I grabbed my coat, I didn’t grab the keys off of the kitchen counter. Oops.

Lucky for me, I work a mere six blocks from home. I called the condo board president on my way; he had a key, but wouldn’t be home for another two hours and (understandably) didn’t want to meet me after I got home from work at 12:30 a.m. But he said he would leave my door unlocked for me.

Of course it was raining on the walk home. (It’s kind of sad that it takes the same amount of time to walk or drive to work. It’s just drier — and likely safer — to drive.) And although my fingers were crossed (and cold), the door wasn’t unlocked when I arrived. But, after a little text-message trickery, it was.

Home sweet home!

Tomorrow, I’m giving Valerie a copy of my key. Just in case.