Tuesday, June 3, 2008


Being the wonderful girlfriend that I am, I offered to help Rick get started packing his stuff to move to CO while he was away. Knowing his parents go to church every Sunday and then to visit his grandma, I asked his mom to leave me a key, which she said wouldn't be a problem. What was intended to be a nice and simple gesture turned out to be a criminal act.

I arrived at Rick's around 11am this past Sunday and let myself in the house using the key that was left for me. I locked the door behind me and carried my empty boxes and purse up to his 3rd story bedroom. I went back down to let his brother's dog out of the crate (his parents were watching her while he was on vacation) and take her outside. I opened the front door, Shea (the dog) ran out and I closed the front door behind me---leaving the key on the table inside and letting the door lock behind me! What was I going to do? I'll tell you.

I went around the house checking every window to see if any were unlocked and/or accessible from the outside. No such luck. I checked the small basement windows hoping to shimmy through and even used the pliers from my tackle box to try and pry the window open. No go. Checked all the outside doors. Locked. Then I remembered - the garage door opener keypad. I've entered the code int he past a couple of times so I thought maybe I can try and remember. As I approach the garage door I notice the keypad is gone! His parents are painting all the trim on the house and removed it to paint.

I didn't know what to do. I have no way in, a dog who is running around the yard like crazy, and no phone (my purse is in the house) to try and call my parents to come get me (and this dog). There were no signs that the neighbors were home and I couldn't walk down the street with a dog on no leash to use someone else's phone.

So I stood in front of the double garage doors with my hands on my hips and just looked up to the heavens trying to think of what to do. And then I saw it - the window above the garage where there is storage space was cracked open about an inch or two. I had to figure out how to get in the one and only window that was unlocked.

I put Shea in my car and closed the door so she couldn't run around and I searched the yard for a way to get up there. Lucky for me they were in the middle of painting trim and there was a ladder behind some bushes on the side of the house. I leaned the ladder up against the house and it barely reached the windowsill. I proceeded to climb up this ladder in my gray cotton gauchos, a hot pink tank top, and flip flops.

The ladder started to shake as I got towards the last couple of rungs and I reached for the windowsill. I just made it. I had visions of the ladder falling and me hanging on for dear life from the windowsill. Thankfully, that did not happen. I reached the window, pushed it open and climbed into the attic-space dripping with sweat. Thank goodness they are very organized people and there was room to move around up there (unlike my attic which is packed with so much stuff you can't move anywhere). I made my way to the wooden folding stairs and carefully pushed them down into the garage. I climbed down the steps and easily let myself into the kitchen through the door all the while glad that neighbors didn't see and call the cops (not that any robber in their right mind would climb a ladder in flip flops!)

The whole time I felt as if I was in some action/comedy show or movie. I'm a good girl, but that was my small bit of off-the-record criminal activity.

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