I have had three really (only in retrospect) funny episodes being locked out of the house. If I could only get into my WP blog, I could just transfer the true story to here. I'll type however as it's a lost cause.
Every single word is true.
I was on midnights...I had a 12 hour shift rotation...and got up as always at 3:15am for days, or 3:15 PM. if I was on mids. Again... one was for days, one was for nights. (I HATE not using military time..I detest the silly colon and all that stuff) (1530)!!! That was rise and shine time for midnight and 0315 for day. Days and mids started at 7 and lasted till 7. Day or night.
One arrives at HQ at 0435 or 0440 if on days (or 4:30 in the afternoon on mids) . One walks a half a mile from the parking lot to HQ whereupon one goes into a change house, so called, and puts on one's BDU's etc. Then, off to the coffee machine, out onto the porch with others on your shift who smoked (I quit) ...to stand and slurp coffee and gossip. Being the only female...can't say I was the only one to flap my jaw. Then, by 5:30 PM or AM, in to get ones weapon, then Commander's Meeting. Then, relieve the person waiting for you...tear into a whole bunch of stuff for 12 1/2 hrs. Hurry home unless you get mandatoried to work a 16 instead of 12 hr. shift. Sleep a couple hours and hurry back.
On to the story. Routine was: I always woke with the hearld of the alarm clock at 3:15 PM or AM if on mids or days...went into the kitchen to pour coffee and eat. Wash my face...apply my makeup, do my hair, dress and leave within an hour of rising. And the above I wrote about was the same time whether in the early morning or the early evening when I got up. Never changed. I did log on to see if Admiral had comments...sometimes I wrote her blog. Looking back, I amaze myself of all I could do in an hour or less including travel time! I was organized.
Except, I rose at 3:15 one afternoon...got to the kitchen in my pink gauze baby baby doll nighty. I saw the trash I'd failed to take out that night- and grabbed it up by its neck..opened the side porch door...looked cautiously left and right for traffic and darted out the door to throw the garbage into the trash can. Ladies and gentlemen, when I tried to get into the house that brilliantly sunny afternoon with a pretty good breeze blowing, the screen door was locked. And me standing there on the porch, nightgown dancing in the air, cars slowing down and staring at the dumb butt out there with her night gown rising constantly trying to open the door.
I went to the back of the house, at the deck and found my old extension ladder. And with my wee nightgown blowing up like a flag, I climbed up it to skinny over the fence. I threw one hind leg over the rail, hesitated while the audience watched...finally got the other hind leg over as well and stood on the deck...realising that if the deck door was locked too, I was toast. It opened thank goodness, and I hurried in to the bathroom to start getting my face on..and so on. I got a lock smith up on my first off day to remove the lock in the screen door! Then, my deck's screen door nailed me years later while in my nighty. (knee length).
Doors HATE me.
