Hey, great news everyone! Security doors really, really work. It took a trained professional armed with power tools and fancy cat-burglar equipment nearly 30 minutes to get through mine. I may be assuming things here, but I'm pretty sure that your average thief is usually going for fast and quiet when seeking to break into your house. Drilling and hammering your way through a security door is definitely neither.
Oh, are you curious about why someone had to hammer and drill through my door? Let me tell you about my day! This morning I was still feeling rather unwell (damn lungs), so I stayed in bed until I had to get up to shower for work, at about 12:20 p.m. Shower completed and feeling nearly ready for the day, I went downstairs prepared to drive to the brewery. Except that my car wouldn’t start. The battery was so unbelievably dead. Oh my. I’ll spare you details of the ensuing stressfest, but suffice it to say that by the time Chuck and my neighbor got my battery charged up, I had missed the 2 o’clock tour I was supposed to give at work.
Top this off with a nasty dose of freeway-choking holiday traffic, and you had a very grumpy and despairing Kathryn arriving at work. Thankfully, working at the brewery always cheers up my day, and today was no exception. However, while work improved my mood significantly, it did nothing to make me feel better physically. I was feeling like a train wreck by the end of my shift and SO grateful to be on my way home to some hot tea and bed and a book.
Urgh. Because I had to leave my keys in the ignition this morning so my engine could run, I locked the doorknob part of my screen door rather than the deadbolt. I had a bad feeling about it somehow. Well, those feelings came home to roost with a nasty sharp pointy vengeance. When I got home the door would not open no matter how much I pulled, twisted, and rattled it. I was nearly in tears. Home was SO close! And poor Sylvie was beside herself, yowling pitifully at me through the window the entire two hours I was locked out. Yes, two. Two. Hours. Jesus god! Chuck came over (how many times is he going to have to save me this week?!) with some tools to try to chisel it open, but all we did was break the tools we tried. So I broke down and called a locksmith. Chuck was kind enough to wait with me until he arrived.
Once the very nice young lock-picker got here, he basically waged a full-scale war on that doorknob. Because of the metal flange on the front of the door covering the locks, his usual tools couldn’t reach. So he took out his drill and stuck it right in the middle of the doorknob and demolished the bejeezus out of it. It was actually kind of pretty the way the metal shavings came flying out of it; it was a sparkly silver fountain, almost like fireworks. Pretty! Maybe I was just delirious at that point. At any rate, after a lot of drilling from different angles, hammering chisels into it, and using all sorts of pliers to pull out decimated lock innards, the thing finally came off. That poor young man sure earned his fee tonight. It was 10:45 when he left.
Now I have a gaping hole in my door (not quite so secure anymore) and a glittering pile of metal shavings all over my landing. Still, I am grateful to be inside my house. Home! This is what I’m thankful for--that today is just about over. Happy Thanksgiving!
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