Alone, outside writing. At least I thought I was alone. Then I saw a raccoon pop out, no more than seven feet away from me. I can handle the suicidal stray cat I feed--even the occasional possum. But a 'coon? That's just too much. I don't know why, but raccoons strike me as the sorta creature you're better off avoiding. I think it has something to do with their razor-sharp teeth and rabies. I tried scaring it away a few different times with a broom, but it kept reappearing so I went inside for my BB gun--with laser sight. Relax, you PETA-loving freaks: it doesn't hurt (knowing this from the repeated times I accidently shot myself). Anywhos, the critter is gone before I even had time to cock the gun.

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The Girlfriend bought a screen door for her house. It took some convincing to get her to do it. She hated living in a hot stuffy house and left the front door open a lot. Things were fine at first but after a family of moths decided to move in, she decided some sort insect protection would be better idea. We bought one last week and haven't had the time to install it.

Earlier today, I got a vision. Instead of sitting around doing nothing, I could get off my rump and install the door as a surprise while she went shopping at the Wal-Mart. I figured it was nice thing to do--especially since I spent most of the day ignoring her and watching football. Things were going all peachy. I had the door in place and was making the finishing touches on the handle. I stood outside and close the door; everything seemed to lock in place. Unfortunately when I went to open it, I discovered the release for the latch didn't work. No matter how hard I pushed, the latch wouldn't release and I couldn't open the door.

No big deal, I told myself. I'll just unlock the back door and enter her house from there.

As I turned away something caught my eyes--the light from the television reflected off my keys. The keys that were inside the house--three inches away. Behind the screen door.

That's when I knew I was in trouble. The Girlfriend wouldn't have her back door unlocked for safety reasons. I wouldn't be able to get into it without the keys.

I was given two options: I could sit and wait for her to return from the Wal-Mart (a scary notion considering how much she likes to shop) or I could call The Girlfriend and beg her to come home. I reached for my phone--only to remember I left it on her kitchen counter. I felt like Indiana Jones in "The Temple of Doom" when he discovered he didn't have his gun.

I was hosed.

Luckily, there are a few tricks I picked up on in my youth--one of which is breaking into houses. This was not a skill I learned for financial gain, but rather one of necessity as quite often in junior high I came home to a locked house. I rummaged around her yard and found a piece of wire, rusty washer, and couple of garden gnomes. I'm not gonna tellya how I did it, but I was able to jimmy open the latch and open the door.

After a few tweaks, I tested the door again. But I'm no fool--this time with the back door unlocked.

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