(diaryland) November 06, 2001 - 2:23 p.m.

SO.

Roland and I are the biggest nerd-arses on the planet.

We were standing on the porch. Roland shut the front door. Then he said, "Have you got your housekeys?"

Thus began the saga of pain.

a) It was late in the day and rainy.
b) Neither of us had our mobile phones, either.
c) We were broke.
d) Diane, our other housemate, was somewhere on the other side of the state and we didn't have her phone number.
e) Tomorrow was a public holiday.

Not the best of times to lock ourselves out of the house, really. I would have preferred some time last week.

Roland began trying to break into our own house by jumping onto the roof and removing tiles so he could get in through the manhole. But the purlins were too close to squish his little body through. After that failed, suddenly, it began to rain down on him. And he couldn't manage to get off the roof. So things were looking even worse. After about half an hour of running around and getting very wet, he did this swinging thing on the garage which meant he could finally get down. We decided to get fast food for dinner.

When we got back to the house, we tried a different strategy. Namely, shoving old laminated cards from our wallets into doorframes and hoping for the best. I deconstructed a clothespeg, thinking it would help. It didn't.

The next strategy involved us destroying one of the windows in Diane's bedroom and getting in through there. Destroying one of our own windows just didn't seem right. We got the seal off her window, then, the glass wouldn't budge. It laughed in our faces.

We retreated to Rosie's house in defeat. There, I rang a 24-hour locksmith who laughed at me. He came to our house, literally took four seconds to unlock our front door with a stick(which usually takes me about ten seconds with the key), and charged us ninety bucks.

We aren't going to tell Diane.