Can’t Be My Fault

Can’t Be My Fault



As I pulled the door shut behind me, I realized what I had done. It was at the exact instant that it closed when I knew. I looked down at my shoelace, where I always tied my key when I went for a run. I already knew what I would see, but I had to look anyway. There was no key…I was locked out.

I had done this many times before in hotels. Of course, all I had to do was go to the front desk and have a new key made. There is no front desk in my neighborhood for instances like this. Maybe there should be. I could bring it up at the next neighborhood meeting, if we had neighborhood meetings. Maybe, we should have a meeting to decide if we need to have meetings.

Even though I knew the door was locked, I had to check it anyway. Then, even though I knew the back door was locked, I checked that too. I began to think of ways to break in. Luckily it has the word break in it. That made me thinks of costs and repairs. There would be no break in. Plus, my luck, I would be the first person ever to be arrested for breaking into their own house. Oh, and don’t think my wife wouldn’t press charges.

My sister and her family live in the neighborhood. She gave me a key to her house, in case one of them would need it. I always meant to have one made to give to her, but never got around to it. Hey, we’ve only been here fourteen years, when was I supposed to find the time?

I hadn’t used the code on the garage keypad since about a week after we moved in. I’ve forgotten hundreds of passwords since then. I gave it a shot anyway. No chance in hell.

That’s when a strange thought occurred to me. One I had never had before.

“This could be my fault.”

Nah, couldn’t be. There has to be someone or something I can blame for this.

I had two and a half hours to kill before my wife would get home from work to rescue me. I was on my way for a run anyway, that will take up 45 minutes to an hour. I forgot about how thirsty a run would make me and the water was locked inside the house.

After my run, I was sitting on my back deck. I was sweaty and thirsty and trying to figure out who or what to blame this on. That’s when it came to me. It was only a week ago, that I was still wearing sweat shirts and sweat pants because of the winter that would never end. If I had to put on sweat pants, I would have removed my shoes and remembered my key. On this hot humid day, I only had to slip out of the shorts I was wearing into my running shorts without having to take off my shoes.

So there it was. If winter hadn’t lasted so long, I would be used to wearing shorts and wouldn’t have been locked out. This wasn’t my fault at all. I blamed it on the stupid weather. Right then, the skies opened up and it began to pour on me…Son of a Bitch!

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