My in-laws dearly love me. I know this because against all reason, they allowed their lovely daughter to marry me, let me take her six hours away (on REALLY good traffic days) and evenbought a house for me to manage right around the corner from us. ( I know that they probably also purchased it to see their superstar grandkids-- couple of pictures below, but it's been a lot of fun for me to renovate and maintain it, so for that I know they love me too.)
But on Saturday I really started to wonder a little bit. Because, you know, when you wander downstairs to what just might be the world's most fabulous basement (I like to think of it as my honorary 'man-cave'), generally you don't expect to locked in when you come back. But I was. And no one would let me out-- I think they didn't hear me. So I finally had to call the Queen five minutes later to let me out. When she stopped laughing hysterically, she came downstairs to let me out. Which was really funny until she pulled the doorknob off. Yup. Not just locked in-- locked in with no way to open the door. (This is my father-in-law trying to use his surgical skills on a doorknob.)
But here's why the man is a devastatingly effective surgeon. No panic. He'd planned for this very occasion. That's right-- he keeps all the tools in his basement storage area (which, coincidentally is bigger than my living room-- it's awesome!!) and had me find a screwdriver with which I eventually busted myself out. I replaced the doorknob the next day. I think it was the most useful thing I did all weekend. And that's the tale of why one day I may lock the Queen down there : ) -- one never knows. Tomorrow, a little bit of the mayhem that happened in Gloucester!
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