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Mishi · 09-01-2004, 03:31 AM

I managed to somehow lock myself out of my house once...patio door had a loose latch or something stupid like that. The house was build in the late 60's and had those typical, sliding metal frame windows. The outer (storm) window was open, so I decided to try to knock the inner window off its track. I started by gently just nudging it in a rhythmic manner...when it looked like it was ready to give, I nudged it just a *little* bit harder - just hard enough to smash through the glass with my bare hand.

At that point all I knew was that I was bleeding a lot, and that I really wanted a cigarette. As calmly as I could, I cleared the remaining glass out enough so I could climb in and get a towel to wrap my hand in. (I was in a little bit of shock, I think.) I was bleeding like a stuck pig, but none of the cuts were really bad enough to require stitches. I still have a nice little scar, though. (Or, I did - can't seem to find it now.)

When my now-ex-husband got home, he was convinced that I'd faked a weak suicide attempt to get attention. Um, no, I just didn't want to spend the afternoon locked out of the house, DEAR. He thought the same thing when I gashed my palm on a broken toilet seat lid. (TMI? You decide.) Why was it easier for him to think of me as suicidal, rather than just plain CLUMSY? Oh well, that's the past...

09-01-2004, 03:31 AM
Mishi Confirmed User Join Date: Feb 2002 Location: Scottsdale, AZ Posts: 1,054	I managed to somehow lock myself out of my house once...patio door had a loose latch or something stupid like that. The house was build in the late 60's and had those typical, sliding metal frame windows. The outer (storm) window was open, so I decided to try to knock the inner window off its track. I started by gently just nudging it in a rhythmic manner...when it looked like it was ready to give, I nudged it just a little bit harder - just hard enough to smash through the glass with my bare hand. At that point all I knew was that I was bleeding a lot, and that I really wanted a cigarette. As calmly as I could, I cleared the remaining glass out enough so I could climb in and get a towel to wrap my hand in. (I was in a little bit of shock, I think.) I was bleeding like a stuck pig, but none of the cuts were really bad enough to require stitches. I still have a nice little scar, though. (Or, I did - can't seem to find it now.) When my now-ex-husband got home, he was convinced that I'd faked a weak suicide attempt to get attention. Um, no, I just didn't want to spend the afternoon locked out of the house, DEAR. He thought the same thing when I gashed my palm on a broken toilet seat lid. (TMI? You decide.) Why was it easier for him to think of me as suicidal, rather than just plain CLUMSY? Oh well, that's the past... __________________ Looking for PHP/MySQL solutions? Check out Cyboriginal - custom scripts, installation services and more.