Hiii-YAH!

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Recollections from my early days in Reliance.
It was the dead of winter. I woke up at 3:15 in the morning as I often do and decided that it would be good if I could get a load of laundry started and maybe clean the catboxes while I was up and get that unpleasant chore out of the way.  I dutifully put some clothes into the washing machine and saw that I’d run out of litter, but there was more in the back of my car.  My pesky cats were trying to get past me as I went out the side door so I quickly slammed it shut behind me.

My doorbell

My ever-so-cool-but-not-very-loud doorbell chimes.

 

Living in Reliance, I don’t lock my car. After retrieving the cat litter from my pantry on wheels, when I went back to get into the house the door was locked!  See? THIS is why I never use that particular door!  I haven’t mastered the deadbolt on it!  Going in and out of the front door gives me more pleasure!

So there I am, in my clown-red, thin cotton sweatpants and a tee shirt – and lambskin boots, thankfully – at 3:30 in the morning surrounded by SNOW and ice pounding away at the door trying to raise a sleeping 10 year old to no avail.  I found myself thinking if I could just get in and get some nice, hot cocoa and maybe a coat and a book and some firewood and matches I would be okay in this situation.  As it was, I kept warm by pounding on both doors, ringing my ever-so-cool-but-not-very-loud doorbell chimes, and yelling for Adam when I dared, trying not to wake the whole neighborhood, worried that he might be paralyzed with fright upon being woken from a deep sleep by a frantically pounding stranger at the front door – as I would be.

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Ironically, while my doorbell no longer works, sometimes the hanging bars will swing and lightly clang together even when the windows are closed and there’s no breeze. A ghost? Perhaps…

Meanwhile my dutiful cats scratched away on their side of the door in a vain attempt to rescue me.  “Don’t worry!  We’ll be though in no time!” their scratching seemed to cry.  Sweet little buggers.

After forty-five minutes spent in vain I finally decided to break the glass on the side door.  I took a deep breath, clutched my jug of cat litter, and swung. BOINK. Yuh-oh! What if this is that tempered glass stuff  that doesn’t break?

I decided that a good swift kick was in order, so I braced myself, put my arms in kick-boxing position, and Hiiii-YAH!! The glass shattered! It EXPLODED!! It was just like in the movies, ‘cept my boot came off and I fell onto my bum in the snow. Otherwise I’m SURE I would have looked really cool.

I was SO HAPPY to be back into the house, even if it meant having to sweep up broken glass and having swollen knuckles and sore arms from knocking so long and hard, not to mention a hurt bum. I went upstairs and Adam was sleeping like an angel, completely unaware of his mother’s plight and new glass repair bill. My hero!

Think of me if you ever need some glass ju-jitzued, for I am now an expert and can add that to my list of skills.

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