I was having a hard time figuring out what on earth I'd title a blog or if I'd even start one, because really, this is not the best week for me to be goofing around on the internet. Our bed is in our dining room, my dresser is in our living room, and my grandparents are coming on Saturday to help Andrew and me sand our newly-found hardwood floors. We (er, Andrew) have also been doing some hard-core sleuthing that bordered on legal to track down the bank info of the dude we sued over our house, and now that we have the Sheriff making a lien on the dude's bank account, we figured it might be time to change the locks. So, last night, Andrew and I made our (daily) trek to Lowe's and got new locks. The nice old man at the counter called me "honey" and patted my shoulder as he helped us find the right lock (this is Iowa, so there is a little less of a creep factor there I suppose), and I think Andrew was relieved that I looked like the clueless idiot instead of him. We brought the locks home, and after two hours of yelling at each other and cursing the moron who used random parts and hacked into our doors without any thought whatsoever, we had affixed new dead bolts and we deemed our house "safe." We tested the locks, they worked, we got new keys made, and they worked, and we were very proud of ourselves.
Tonight, after dinner (Andrew grilled up a mean turkey burger and we topped it with farmer's market lettuce and tomato, paired with my own creation of "eggplant fries" which were also organic and local), we decided to go get Maggie Moo's ice cream (Better Batter) to pair with our locally grown blueberries. We got home, inserted the key into the lock...and...nothing. The key would turn, but it wasn't catching the lock. I peeked inside, and saw that the knob on the dead bolt wasn't moving when the key turned. Nothing was happening, and since we had some first hand experience with the dead bolts we'd just installed, we were well aware that we weren't going to get in.
Of course, we had a key to the front door, but that door was chained. And, being responsible home owners, we lock all of our windows. So, we did the logical thing: we went to knock on the door of our next door neighbor (who is a very handy guy). He tried our lock, the key did the same thing for him, and he said, "You put on new locks and didn't test the key??" We tried to explain that we did test it, but of course, at this point it's 10pm, we're locked out of our house, and we look like complete morons, so explaining that the lock just suddenly stopped working isn't going to make us look any smarter.
Ten minutes later and a pint of melting ice cream, our neighbor helped us remove the screws from the chain on the front door (because the front lock does work - funny, that's the one I installed) and we were inside. After we thanked him profusely, our neighbor walked down our steps, and said over his shoulder, "Goodnight, kids."
Andrew closed the door and looked at me. "We deserved that," he said. "We are kids."
It's true - we're totally just playing house. It seems like every time we take a step forward in any sort of autonomous behavior, we end up taking a giant leap backward and need an "adult" to step in. Frankly, I'm so, so glad that we have an awesome next door neighbor, but I'm growing monumentally more nervous about this weekend. I mean seriously, we're going to refinish hard wood floors when we can't even install a dead bolt lock? Thankfully, my grandparents are coming to supervise, but what we've learned about 85 years of wisdom is that sometimes it's very, very good and other times it's a little outdated.
Anyway, lesson learned: Do not listen to old men who call you honey, simply invest in a new door and have it installed. I will remember this when we suddenly have 1k instead of $20 to invest in our home.
So there you go, Jamie - the first installment of Katie and Andrew's adventures (or disasters) in home ownership is now published on the internet for all to see.
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