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Stop in the name of love.
That's what I wrote on a sliver of a sticky note to put above our top door lock recently. I had no choice. That morning, like several other mornings in the past few months, I found myself locked in our apartment by my gorgeous, kind, terribly forgetful fiancee.
A few months ago, Tiffany and I locked ourselves out of our apartment and paid several hundred dollars to have new locks made. But apparently it takes several hundred more dollars to make the inside lock match the outside lock. I'm not sure, really, since we weren't given that choice. What this means is that we cannot lock (or unlock) our top lock from inside our apartment. We can only lock it from outside our apartment, which Tiffany does quite often when she leaves for work, and I'm still sleeping inside.
The other day I dialed Tiffany's place of business.
"Hi, this is Rebecca, and my partner Tiffany is training someone in your gym. Can you tell her she locked me in the apartment... again?"
"You're locked out?" the receptionist said.
"In."
"Wait, hold on, let me take this down. What happened?"
Sigh.
By the time Tiffany got home--sprinting up the stairs and apologizing from the hallway while I waited inside with my backpack and sunglasses on--I had forgotten that I once thought the situation was funny.
But later that night we both remembered that it was. Still. I'm not taking any chances.
Hence the sticky for Tiffany:
Stop [locking me in our apartment] in the name of love.
That's what I wrote on a sliver of a sticky note to put above our top door lock recently. I had no choice. That morning, like several other mornings in the past few months, I found myself locked in our apartment by my gorgeous, kind, terribly forgetful fiancee.
A few months ago, Tiffany and I locked ourselves out of our apartment and paid several hundred dollars to have new locks made. But apparently it takes several hundred more dollars to make the inside lock match the outside lock. I'm not sure, really, since we weren't given that choice. What this means is that we cannot lock (or unlock) our top lock from inside our apartment. We can only lock it from outside our apartment, which Tiffany does quite often when she leaves for work, and I'm still sleeping inside.
The other day I dialed Tiffany's place of business.
"Hi, this is Rebecca, and my partner Tiffany is training someone in your gym. Can you tell her she locked me in the apartment... again?"
"You're locked out?" the receptionist said.
"In."
"Wait, hold on, let me take this down. What happened?"
Sigh.
By the time Tiffany got home--sprinting up the stairs and apologizing from the hallway while I waited inside with my backpack and sunglasses on--I had forgotten that I once thought the situation was funny.
But later that night we both remembered that it was. Still. I'm not taking any chances.
Hence the sticky for Tiffany:
Stop [locking me in our apartment] in the name of love.
What kind of a lock is that? and $200.00 to change a lock? You might as well buy a new door with a lock.
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