When we returned home last night we learned we were locked out of the house. Corey had one of my door keys, and we never got it copied. Steve left his keys at home. Corey's were inside too. No windows were open. We could get in the garage but not the house.
Steve was a grump, grumbling about getting a hotel for the night (which might have been cheaper than getting a locksmith at midnight on the Fourth of July). William (mini-Steve) was doing the "what will do? will we sleep in the garage? will we break a window? and on and on...and ON!"
I tried to tune them both out and set to work on the lock. I should say I have never broken into anything that didn't need breaking into, oh and I never committed a crime for clarification. But I have a knack for picking locks and breaking into things - cars, houses, a safe once or twice. I broke into the house with a credit card, a barrette and a pair of scissors. Steve was, as he often is in our marriage, stunned. He kept going back to the door looking at it, asking how I did it.
Now you know why I have an alarm