The birthday weekend was one of those weekends…so chocked
full with cleaning, cooking and cake decorating that adding one more thing to
my to-do list was the furthest thing from my mind. I think this is where
someone would pipe up, “But God has a sense of humor!” I disagree. God just
wants Melissa Michele Sturm Camus to learn flexibility – again!
I had a lot to do on Friday. I had left much of the cleaning
for that day so everything in my non-Better-Homes-and-Gardens house would
“sparkle” for my visiting parents and in-laws (mostly the latter, of course).
And while the cake was made, it wasn’t decorated. And there was laundry to do.
And meals to feed two kids. And just the general making sure Ethan wasn’t going
up the steps, Emry was sharing and the dishes were done. So, when the kids
accompanied me to the basement to move laundry from the washer to the dryer, I
didn’t mind if they stayed down there and played with the toys they have down
there. I came up and started on kitchen chores, listening to them happily play
and peeking down ever-so-often to make sure Ethan wasn’t climbing the steps.
“Mama, it’s a mess!” I heard about ten minutes later. I
responded somehow, thinking Emry meant her blackboard which she scribbles all
over and calls a mess. Ethan wasn’t on the steps, so I went back to work.
Another five or ten minutes passed and I hear Emry again.
“Mama, it’s a mess!”
This time I figure she wants me to come down and see her
artwork and since I was at a breaking point anyhow, I headed down the steps…and
stopped.
At this point, two thoughts crossed my mind: 1) is this
really what my life has come to?, and 2) the British should be grateful the
Gunpowder Plot was unsuccessful.
Have you ever seen a room covered with about half a
container of baby powder? Well, that’s what my basement looked like. Emry stood
on her stool, powder container in hand. Ethan sat happily on the floor looking
like a very cute, powdery abominable snowman. And my floor, the table, the
shelf…and just about every other surface was showered with baby powder.
“Mama,” Emry declared yet one more time. “It’s a mess!”
At least is smelled good.
I wish I could say that was the end my adventures that
weekend, but Saturday rolled around. I was getting the kids ready, my parents
would arrive soon and Ed was gone on the rather arduous rounds of picking up
his dad and then his mom and her “friend”. I looked at my beautiful roll top
desk and realized the piles on it – Emry’s school, Ethan’s scrapbook, various
lists, bills to be paid, taxes to be done, letters to be written and mailed –
were not a sight I wished my in-laws to see. So, I carefully rolled down the
cover but made sure it didn’t latch and so lock in place. Not two minutes
later, I found something I decided to shove on to the desk, Emry took some toy
away from Ethan, Ethan cried and I had to intervene. So, I have Ethan in my
arms, I’m holding up the cover of the desk just enough to shove whatever inside
and scolding Emry. That’s when it happens. I drop the cover and it latches.
Locked. With the keys inside.
Since I’m sure you already think I’m an idiot for having the
keys inside anyway, I won’t explain to you my perfectly logical reason for
having them there. I’ll just go on to say that I had supposed that lock to be
rather simple. The few times I had locked it, using the key didn’t seem to be a
big deal. But I am very happy to declare that the lock is not simple and it would take a very good locksmith (or a pretty
accurate skeleton key) to get into it. YouTube, picking-lock forums, calls to a
local hardware and locksmith shop got us nowhere. I did find a similar looking
key online and placed an order but for the next three days my lock picking
skills were proved failures and I kept remembering all the things locked in
there – thankfully not overdue bills to pay, taxes to do, my laptop, now-late
birthday cards, my Bible study book, my ESV Bible…
By Wednesday I was nearing desperation and decided to try
something that had crossed my mind but I was 95% sure wouldn’t work. But you
know what desperation can do… I cleared off the top of the desk and lifted. I
knew the top was a separate piece but I didn’t think it was light enough or
attached in a way that I could lift the back right corner enough for me to
maneuver my hand inside and wiggle the drawer out that held the key. To my
surprise, it was light enough and did lift enough that I could prop it up with
books, get my hand underneath, pull the drawer out and then push enough stuff
out of the way that I could get the drawer in a place where I could get my hand
inside, find one of the keys and pull it out. Success!!!!
Yes, yes, yes. The keys are now not inside the desk. I will be much more careful about closing it.
And, I discovered something. I was under the desk trying to figure out if I
could get up to the locking mechanism from underneath when I found an old
sticker now barely legible that had the name of the company that made the desk.
I had always wondered, but I don’t know that my grandparents knew or I had simply
never asked. But now I can do a little research.
Especially since my laptop is no longer locked inside…
No comments:
Post a Comment