I Locked Myself Out of My Own Open House

While at an open house today, I got the following instant message from my wife:

Ann: While you are there take some better exterior photos. Today is sunny, and the old ones were taken on a cloudy day. 

Smart idea. The last time I was here, I didn’t get anything from the rear of the home either, which is a shame because it is so much larger from the back. No one had arrived yet, so I shot downstairs and out the back door to snap a few exterior photos from the large, fully fenced rear yard. 

And locked my shirt-sleeved dumb arse outside of the house in a yard completely surrounded by a 6-foot fence with pointy things on top. Now, mind you, the front door was quite unlocked. I was just trapped on the wrong side of the fence. 

With pointy things on top. 

It is funny how the mind races when something like this occurs. I left my phone inside. My laptop was on the kitchen table. Was it opened to an embarrassing web page? What to do? Hope nobody comes to the open and discovers what a dope I am? Hope someone arrives and opens the back door? 

Wait. Fences have gates. 

Locked gates. 

So after a few minutes of chilly weather with no coat spent weighing my options, I came upon a plan. I needed to scale the fence with the pointy things and climb over it without hurting myself. I am not dressed for that. I am too fat. I am too old. I am too trapped. 

Climbing the fence was actually easy. Getting my fat posterior to a position where I could jump down to the other side was the hard part. Muscles I haven’t used in quite some time (obliques come to mind. Left obliques) were summoned to the effort, and those muscles are not pleased with me right now. And jump I did, right into snow which got into my shoes. Wet feet were a small price to pay for freedom. 

I straightened myself out and walked calmly inside the still-empty home, puffing. My wife and her stupid ideas!