Frustrated Redneck.

I learned something new about Long Island today. It is impossible to break into a house here.

I woke up late, as expected. My decision to not try to navigate the city this morning to get to church left me with a whole lot of nothing to do. E and T were taking the kids to a parade today and since I was home, I kept the baby.

We had a slow breakfast and by the time they were packed up and out the door it was time for Baby I to nap. While he was down I watched a movie (TIVO!), ate some lunch, read myself a bible lesson in efforts to make Sunday feel like Sunday should and cleaned up the morning rush.

When he got up he ate his lunch and watched me clean the sticky off the kitchen floor. We're having an ant problem. Not the normal sized ones either but those tiny, little, practically microscopic ones that look pretty harmless when you see just one but in fact they travel in huge swarms (colonies?) much like fleas. So when you see one in your house it's safe to assume that billions more are watching you.

When I was confident that no ants would cross me for at least fifteen minutes, I packed up Baby I and his stroller and we headed out for a stroll.

My instructions were simple.

Lock up the house if you go out.
The silver key is the back door -- through the garage.
The gold key is the front door.

I wheeled Baby through the house over my nice clean floors to the front door, since I didn't want to leave the garage hanging open. I tested the key.

It worked.

But the latch on the door looked shady at best. The house is very old and my employers purchased it in an estate sale. The mechanism on the front door is made of iron. Old, old, heavy iron. I was scared.

About two or three years ago I was house sitting for a friend. This friend lives in a newer house with all working doors and all working keys. I used to lock up the house when I took the dog walking and one day...

I locked myself out.

My old house, where I lived with my mom and family for several years? Went to get the mail...

I locked myself out.

In my Allentown apartment where coming and going of my roommates and friends was very frequent and common and therefore I should ALWAYS have my key...

I locked myself out.

So, today I was being extra cautious. I HAD MY KEYS.

And I locked myself out.

Only, NOT REALLY.

The instant the door closed I had that special feeling that I was going to be stuck outside with Baby for quite sometime. Good thing we had brought along his water cup. I thought about calling E, but I wanted to see what my other options were first. Plus, I still wanted to enjoy our walk.

I circled the house to the garage. The actual garage door was locked. The side entry that would let me in to the "back" door was locked. The actual back door of the house was locked. The door on the other side of the house...locked. I tried both the gold and silver keys in every door.

I returned to the front door and tried AGAIN.

I stood on the door step of my fancy pants Long Island house in this fancy pants Long Island neighborhood, trying to break in for at least ten minutes while Baby I babbled in his stroller.

It was time for plan B. I circled the house again, this time resorting to my most faithful instincts. Find an accessible window or a tool that can be implemented as a lock-pick. My credit cards were all in the house and I hadn't brought any steak knives along for our walk, silly me.

I could not believe I was being faced with a locked house that I could not somehow break into. No windows, no shotty doors (well, not shotty in the way I needed them to be), no maintenance men who I could call and demand bring me another key or at the very least a drink, no roommates to beg to hurry home. Just me and Baby I, my iPod, a cup of water, a wad of clean tissues and my junky little cell phone.

We went on our walk.

I called a few people to chat, since my cell reception is all but nonexistent in the house. I power walked through the neighborhood, doing my best to look rich and too important for you. I saw a lady watering her plants on her monstrous front patio and I nearly offered a Pennsylvania hello, but then I remembered where I was and returned her look of indifferent disdain, an expression both invented and perfected by New Yorkers. (To my NY family and friends...I'M SORRY I DON'T LIKE YOUR STATE. I STILL LIKE YOU!)

Sadly, the large ring around the neighborhood eventually looped back to my locked house.

I tried the front door again. I tried the side doors again. I tried the back door.

I sighed a little.

My phone dropped the call it had been making to a friend.

I took that as a sign to stop pretending I could break into this house and just call E. He answered and I asked if there was some trick to opening the front door. He said it was kind of old and needed a good push but that it worked.

I tried the key again, in both directions as I had been doing obssesively for at least a grand total of 20 minutes before and after my walk.

Seriously, 20 minutes.

While on my less-than-sixty-second phone call with E, the door popped open.

I sighed a little more.