I locked myself out of the house on Saturday. A little turn of the old doorknob on our front door exiled me outside of the house with dog in tow. I sat with friends and waited for our locksmith to arrive. When the locksmith arrived, I couldn't believe the plumber butt that he displayed. It was like it was out of a movie or a sitcom that our handyman should have such a preference for low waisted pants, and not wearing underwear.
Sunday morning I awoke, and I felt like I had to make up for my $150 mistake. I scrubbed the sink, the toilet, vacumned the carpets, swept the floor, emptied the catbox, and did a load of laundry. I paid $150 to get in the house; I was going to make sure I stayed in it for awhile and took some measure to make it the best house possible.
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