June 24, 2013
Click Clock Lock, ME Newsletter, Vol. 6, Issue 26
The first day I walked to work from my new, temporary for the time being, hopefully permanent for the long haul residence. Raincoat, umbrella, lunch bag, house keys, garbage, purse; and then a second thought about taking the garage door opener with me since I would be leaving through the garage. I stuck my head out and noticed that my neighbor’s bay was open. It seemed like a good idea to scoot out through her door, then I wouldn’t have to worry about clicking mine closed. Besides, I reasoned, I wasn't sure how long the walk would take for sure. When I had started gathering my gear, the clock had shown a respectable 7:32 AM. Going back would just waste time. Yep, house keys were really all I needed.
On my way, I stopped to toss away my first bag of garbage and realized that this was now the place I’d be. No going back. I wasn’t as unhappy about that as I have been. After a regular day’s work, I enjoyed my new 3 minute, walking commute. I gave a passing glance to the garage doors, and headed straight for the front door, as last-minute planned this morning. Grabbing the screen door handle, I was surprised when it did not budge.
Then, I remembered. It was such lovely weather yesterday that I had left the front door open for the light and breeze, and had flipped the bolt on the screen door to eliminate any chance of curious kitty escape. Now, though, there was also no chance of me getting in that way. Employing just an internal twist mechanism, there is no key for the screen door bolt. So, I wandered back around the corner with the hopeful thought that the panel perched outside the garage would only require a push on an “Open-Sesame” button.
Please do keep in mind that I have not had a garage for over 15 years. I’ve mostly lived in apartments. There was that one time, though in Tennessee. It was attached to a rental, and not available for car parking as it was fully used for storage by the owners.
Yes, my parents last few homes had them. Yes, my brother’s home has one. Admittedly, I’ve never paid much attention to the things. And remembering the codes has never happened. The problem now was, as you who use garage door openers regularly know, there was no “Open-Sesame” button and I had never seen any documents mentioning a manual code. 9999 didn’t work. 1234 didn’t work, either. Neither did 456. With a deep breath, I gathered up my courage and knocked on my neighbor’s door, glad that we had met and already spoken in polite conversation for a few minutes each time. I would simply ask her to open her garage so that I could use my house keys to get in through the access door.
She was, unfortunately, not home. OK. I plopped down in the cement steps to regroup, and thankfully recalled a college incident where some sloshed students managed to gain entrance to our living room via removal of the screen windows. That’s another long silly story involving me threatening them with a cold curling iron and my Australian postal roommate with a mathematics book in hand. Inspired by the memory, I was pleased to have another route to pursue. everything happens for a reason ,right?
I rose slowly, walked calmly, doing my best to appear unsuspicious. In my bright pink raincoat with my bright pink and neon orange handbag, I breezed around the side of the townhouse where the near floor-to-ceiling windows are. Sigh.
The good news is that my windows are secure. Apparently very secure. The bad news was there was no way to remove one without tearing it, unless you were planning to rip the screens out. Gathering up more courage, I thought maybe now would be a good time to meet my neighbors on the other side. (to be continued…)
Posted by jaselin at June 24, 2013 08:06 PM