Friday, February 8, 2013

How to Break into a House

Before starting, let me tell you, this post was so touching it made me cry: Author Spotlight: EC Stilson

Now, onto the story about breaking into a house. . . .

    Have you ever been locked out of your house?  Well, yesterday my neighbor was.  
    I sat eating a cream-filled donut when suddenly my neighbor came over and told me everything. We called a locksmith. The cheat said he'd come out and charge more than my life's worth! So, my neighbor and I made other plans. We both jumped the fence--even though I'm thirty now and my best years are behind me.  After checking the back door and several windows, my neighbor, who's half runway model half fashion photographer, had an idea.  "I think that window's unlocked."
    "Really?" I looked up at the window, about seven feet from the ground, and suddenly remembered my wild teenage years.  
    Two friends and I had this crazy obsession with going into icy drains where the run-off from the Wasatch Mountains flows.
    The clear water would rush past, smelling of spring.  You never knew when it would flood the chamber. Brushing death (or whatever that saying is) really got to me.  "Most girls wouldn't have done that," my friend The Boarder confessed on various occasions.  Anyway, we never died, obviously.  And I should probably stop writing about this because my mom never knew and if she reads this . . .  Well, that's scarier than a storm drain.
Back to my runway neighbor . . .    
    I kept staring at the window, thinking I'd fit through worse. 
    "With a ladder, I bet I could fit through there," I said.
     "Really?" the runway model asked.     
    "It'll be tight, but yeah."
    So she climbed up a ladder and discovered the window really was unlocked.  That woman even took off the screen before tag-teaming me for this:
    It looks fun, right?  And it was, until realizing my butt hung over a bathtub several feet below me and my legs were stuck.
    "Are you okay?" my neighbor asked.
    "Oh, fine." I smiled.  "Fine."  My legs were practically glued on top of each other. Should I go in, or out.  In? Or out?  Or just cross my legs and smile?  I could even wave to the people congregating in the yard across the way.  Too bad that donut really went to my thighs.
    I shimmied then, remembered being a kid, playing on a playground and hanging from monkeybars by my knees.  Yeah, that almost happened.  Almost.
    I suddenly pulled my right leg to my chest, leaned,  and swiveled like a freakin' ninja. I balanced into the house, AND THEN SLIPPED ON THE TUB'S EDGE.  
 . . . It's the little things that'll kill ya! . . .
    A good rule to know when breaking into a house--through the smallest window--is that one should never wear slippery shoes.
    "Ahhh." I clasped my hand over my mouth, moon walking like Michael Jackson before clutching onto a beautiful towel that saved me.
    "Are you okay?" my amazing neighbor asked again.  
    "I'm fine," I croaked still hugging the towel.  "Fine."   
    But the truth is . . . I'm GREAT!  I have to say that I kind of loved it.  What an adventureSure it wasn't a life-threatening drain, but I still did something exciting . . . I did the origami AND the moon walk!  Like someone said last week, maybe 30 really is just a number.

P.S.  If you want to know more about my time as a crazy teenager, please go here.

Have you ever broken into someone's house?