Thursday
Jan282010
In case of emergency…
Thursday, January 28, 2010 at 7:27PM
This is my in case of emergency:
I have a well thought out plan. The studio has no windows, and all the doors are toward the front of the building. In case of a fire in the front of the studio, we could be trapped. If we are unable to make it through the flames, this will save us.
We will just chop a hole in the wall and escape. It's brilliant.
I actually used this very tool to break into my own home when I was seven months pregnant.
I was locked out of the house. I was locked out of my car. It was 20 degrees outside. I had no coat. I was pregnant. The pregnant part bears repeating.
I would also like to further note that the child I was pregnant with weighed over ten and a half pounds at birth. Just to set the scene accurately.
I tried every door and window. Like a good homeowner, every entrance was locked. I couldn't shimmy through a basement window even without my giant belly. Most of the other windows were too high off the ground for me to climb through. It was either the French patio door, the front door, or the back door. I went to the shed and got a crowbar.
I went for the French patio door, thinking it would be the least expensive to replace, and that I could just hit the lever-style doorknob off, reach in, and slide the door open.
No.
I succeeded in bending the doorknob, but still could not get in. I went back to the shed and found a hammer. I decided to try the back door, which had nine panes of glass separated by small pieces of wood. I hit the window over and over with the hammer, to no avail.
I went back to the shed and found this ax. I was getting desperate. I was crying and still pregnant and freezing and late for an appointment. And locked out.
I took a big swing at the back window with this ax. Nothing. I swung at that back window over thirty times. It was apparently made of shatterproof glass.
Never mind that my house was on a slight hill and that every neighbor in kingdom come could look right at me on top of that hill hitting the back door of her house mercilessly.
When the glass finally broke, it splintered into forty million tiny round shards, and I then had to use a hammer to clear out the little pieces of glass from the door frame. Excruciatingly, I discovered that there was a second pane of glass on the other side of the broken one.
Everyone should get one of these doors, they are nearly indestructible. A cold pregnant woman with an ax can't break them.
By the time I finally was able to reach in and unlock the door, it was forty-five minutes later. My first call was to the midwife, whom I had kept waiting. I tried to explain that I was late because I had to break into my house with an ax, but gave up and just used the, "I was locked out" excuse instead. She was nice, mostly because I was crying, and because she dealt with crying pregnant women all day.
My second call was to my husband and work, where I had to inform him that I had taken this:
this yellow handled ax stored in the shed, and spent forty-five minutes smashing out the windows in our back door and damaging the handle on the patio door.
My husband is one of the good kinds of husbands.
His first words were, "Are you OK?" His second sentence was, "Don't worry about anything, I'll take care of it."
I told you he was one of the good kinds. When he got home, he laughed. He took one of only two paths available to someone like him in a situation like that: you can find it funny, or you can be furious. He helped me clean up the 60,000 remaining shards of glass inside and outside that I had trouble getting to, he taped plastic up onto the door, and he went right to the Home Depot and bought a new window.
He didn't say anything about the $400, I saw the receipt in his wallet. That's because he's one of the good kinds of husbands. By the way, he's also the kind of husband who will go to Dairy Queen for you any time at all. And he rubs your feet, too. He also didn't say anything about the $90 he had to spend replacing the special handle on the patio door.
Having been a woman on the brink of emotional breakdown, heavy with child, I can say with confidence that I will be able to wield this ax and escape to safety into the tea shop next door should there be a fire.
I also have one of these, just in case:
And some drain opener, because you never know when a slow drain might strike.
Everyone should get this Plan B set. I should sell this Plan B set. What am I thinking? Yarn? Forget it. PLAN B is hot for spring.
I have a well thought out plan. The studio has no windows, and all the doors are toward the front of the building. In case of a fire in the front of the studio, we could be trapped. If we are unable to make it through the flames, this will save us.
We will just chop a hole in the wall and escape. It's brilliant.
I actually used this very tool to break into my own home when I was seven months pregnant.
I was locked out of the house. I was locked out of my car. It was 20 degrees outside. I had no coat. I was pregnant. The pregnant part bears repeating.
I would also like to further note that the child I was pregnant with weighed over ten and a half pounds at birth. Just to set the scene accurately.
I tried every door and window. Like a good homeowner, every entrance was locked. I couldn't shimmy through a basement window even without my giant belly. Most of the other windows were too high off the ground for me to climb through. It was either the French patio door, the front door, or the back door. I went to the shed and got a crowbar.
I went for the French patio door, thinking it would be the least expensive to replace, and that I could just hit the lever-style doorknob off, reach in, and slide the door open.
No.
I succeeded in bending the doorknob, but still could not get in. I went back to the shed and found a hammer. I decided to try the back door, which had nine panes of glass separated by small pieces of wood. I hit the window over and over with the hammer, to no avail.
I went back to the shed and found this ax. I was getting desperate. I was crying and still pregnant and freezing and late for an appointment. And locked out.
I took a big swing at the back window with this ax. Nothing. I swung at that back window over thirty times. It was apparently made of shatterproof glass.
Never mind that my house was on a slight hill and that every neighbor in kingdom come could look right at me on top of that hill hitting the back door of her house mercilessly.
When the glass finally broke, it splintered into forty million tiny round shards, and I then had to use a hammer to clear out the little pieces of glass from the door frame. Excruciatingly, I discovered that there was a second pane of glass on the other side of the broken one.
Everyone should get one of these doors, they are nearly indestructible. A cold pregnant woman with an ax can't break them.
By the time I finally was able to reach in and unlock the door, it was forty-five minutes later. My first call was to the midwife, whom I had kept waiting. I tried to explain that I was late because I had to break into my house with an ax, but gave up and just used the, "I was locked out" excuse instead. She was nice, mostly because I was crying, and because she dealt with crying pregnant women all day.
My second call was to my husband and work, where I had to inform him that I had taken this:
this yellow handled ax stored in the shed, and spent forty-five minutes smashing out the windows in our back door and damaging the handle on the patio door.
My husband is one of the good kinds of husbands.
His first words were, "Are you OK?" His second sentence was, "Don't worry about anything, I'll take care of it."
I told you he was one of the good kinds. When he got home, he laughed. He took one of only two paths available to someone like him in a situation like that: you can find it funny, or you can be furious. He helped me clean up the 60,000 remaining shards of glass inside and outside that I had trouble getting to, he taped plastic up onto the door, and he went right to the Home Depot and bought a new window.
He didn't say anything about the $400, I saw the receipt in his wallet. That's because he's one of the good kinds of husbands. By the way, he's also the kind of husband who will go to Dairy Queen for you any time at all. And he rubs your feet, too. He also didn't say anything about the $90 he had to spend replacing the special handle on the patio door.
Having been a woman on the brink of emotional breakdown, heavy with child, I can say with confidence that I will be able to wield this ax and escape to safety into the tea shop next door should there be a fire.
I also have one of these, just in case:
And some drain opener, because you never know when a slow drain might strike.
Everyone should get this Plan B set. I should sell this Plan B set. What am I thinking? Yarn? Forget it. PLAN B is hot for spring.
Reader Comments (13)
See, now if you lived in MY house - had you locked yourself out, you would have found a convenient planter under the four foot wide kitchen window. You would then discover that my sister had kindly already broken the frame of the screen the last time SHE needed to break in - and then, thoughtfully, we would have left the window unlocked - and then placed a nice stack of sturdy boxes under said window, so you wouldn't have to fall through. It is actually very nice of us.
So I like the colors in the head of the ax; I am seeing a colorway here... :)
You sure can tell a great yarn... er, story.
Hey! You were seven months pregnant and COLD??? How can that be? I spent two pregnancies sweating....jeez, some people have all the luck. ;-)
My last "little" guy was 10lbs 13oz. I'm sure I would have done the same thing.
You are so hilarious. I was having a bad night. I went to your blog just to see if you had posted again since you've been quite wordy lately. I was not disappointed. You made me laugh. you made me smile. You made my bad night better. Now can I have some yarn?
:-))) I love your stories.
Oh, and your pictures. I love them too.
And your husband does sound like one of the good ones. I have one too.
Also handy in case of besiegement of excited customers screaming "We want yarn! We want yarn!"
"Everyone should get one of these doors, they are nearly indestructible. A cold pregnant woman with an ax can’t break them."
That made me laugh pretty hard. I can picture a commercial on television, advertising the strength of these doors, and you, pregnant, crying, cold and desperate, hacking at the door with your ax, to show what a superior product these doors are.
That would be their new advertising slogan, spoken by a narrator with a deep voice: "Smith Doors. A cold pregnant woman with an ax can't break them."
See you soon!
I like your husband. He is one of the good ones.
The story made me laugh once. (I know. It wasn't funny at the time. Surely it is alright to laugh in hindsight.) The picture titles that pop up on a mouseover made me laugh a second time. Its been a rough afternoon. Thanks for that!
I'm crying because your husband is so wonderful. Where'd you find him again? Does he have a brother, uncle, father, heckypoo grandfather or sister that's not married?
I have so many windows I'll have a difficult decision choosing which one to use.
I bet that door could last through a hurricane or tornado. I can see it now. The whole house is gone but that dag gone door is still standing. With an axe sitting up against it.
That's our Yarnista. Creative and strong in the face of adversity!
Hey--why not put a door where you plan to smash out the wall? Shouldn't you have some ventilation back there anyhow? I really, really like the Sockista Club color! Hope you never need to "break out".