Amoeba just flew off to Seattle on a seaplane. I have lots of pictures in my camera but no time to share them now. So I waved at Amoeba, took the snapshots and then made my way from the marina docks to the car — and it was locked. Even before I put my hand in my pocket I knew where the car keys were — in Amoeba’s pocket on their way to Seattle.
Of course, I have my own set of car keys. They were at home in my purse — as was my cell phone. I had a choice, have the car unlocked, take the garage door opener and walk home, or call a locksmith to open the house. Thanks to my insurance, having the car unlocked is free — but they said they had to send someone from Anacortes and it would be several hours before my car was unlocked. Within a half an hour my car would be ticketed. An hour after that it would be towed away.
Another choice! I walked to the bank where our landlady works — only to be told that she is off island on vacation. One of the other ladies at the bank called her son. He was out on a job site and an answering machine was collecting his calls. At that point I was only 25 minutes away from collecting a parking ticket.
I called a locksmith and started walking. Did I mention I had worn my heeled sandals? They were the only slip-ons I had handy and I was only (supposedly) leaving the house for a few minutes. I carried them in my hands. Luckily Friday Harbor has nice, clean, paved sidewalks and walking wasn’t too hard on my bare feet. My biggest worry was that I wouldn’t get home before the locksmith got here and he’d leave. Blessedly, as I walked by the church the pastor was outside and in a chatty mood. I told him my tale in ten words or less (hard to imagine, I know) and he got the church secretary to bring me home. I arrived barely 30 seconds before the locksmith.
We have the best locks on our house that money can buy. It took the locksmith about 15 minutes to unlock the deadbolt on the front door, and that was after he’d tried unsuccessfully to unlock the door knob on our back door. It seems doorknobs are often more difficult to pick then deadbolts, but doorknobs can just be ripped off the door. However, he didn’t have to break anything. He got me inside, I grabbed my keys and he took me down to the car. End of drama.
Quilly is the pseudonym of Charlene L. Amsden, who lives in the Pacific Northwest. When she is not doing book reviews or creating curriculum literature units, she is working on writing the next great American novel. You may visit her writing blog at http://charlene-amsden.com. Quilly is the pseudonym of Charlene L. Amsden, who lives in the Pacific Northwest. When she is not doing book reviews or creating curriculum literature units, she is working on writing the next great American novel. You may visit her writing blog at http://charlene-amsden.com.