Despite popular assumption, SisterKaty still lives with us. There was (and still remains) much speculation about if she was coming with us, and when she would be moving out. SisterKaty has a new life plan that involves going back to Garland to return to a job where she likes the boss people, and where she can be closer to her old-turned-new again boyfriend-type-person.

Even though there is much less space in this house, and many, many less bedrooms, after some furniture shucking, we still had plenty of room for her and all of her 5 things. (Katy, being the migratory person that she is, does not own many objects. This made moving easy for her. This is a life lesson that I learned. Less things makes moving easier. Noted.) What we didn’t have for her (and still don’t) was keys. We have been here for a whopping 5 days now, and despite repeat trips to the local hardware stores, stores where keys can be made with ease for the price of One Whole Dollar, I haven’t remembered to have them copy a key for her.

This hasn’t been a problem, (because she hasn’t been around) until last night.

Katy called me last night and told me that she was planning on coming home. I said cool, we devised a key drop location, so that I could allow her late-night access into the house. The plan was set, and the plan was carried out. I left the screen door open, deposited the keys into the assigned location, and went to bed. But before I went to bed, I carefully locked the doors in such a way that they could be opened with said keys.

But really, I didn’t. Here’s the trick about this house. The dead-bolds that unlock the doors from the outside are also operated by a key from the inside. There is a keyhole on both sides, and if you don’t have a key, you can’t open them. But I didn’t realize that last night, as I methodically locked very single one of the Secret Dead Bolts, the bolts that can only be locked from the inside of the house. I swear, as I was locking them, I thought, “Okay, I am locking the door she can open. I am not locking her out. Go me, I am so smart.”

At 3:45 this morning, Scout started barking. I had set my alarm for 7:00, 30 minutes late than I usually wake up. Thinking Scout was upset that I was missing her usual breakfast time, and that’s why she was barking, I got out of bed and went to quiet her. On the way, I checked my watch, realized what time it was, and became very annoyed. (Later, I discovered that Scout was gingerly telling me in Dog Language, “HEY. JERKS. I DON’T FEEL GOOD AND I HAVE TO GO POTTY A.S.A.P.” Lesson learned.) I noticed while I was wandering the house in the dark that Katy’s door was still open. 3:45, as crazy as it sounds to me, old married lady, is not an unreasonable hour for SisterKaty to still be out with friends. I just assumed that she hadn’t come home yet. I went back to bed.

At 7:00 when I got up, I let Scout out (and also, discovered that she had been trying to tell me something earlier that morning, whoops) and saw that Katy’s door was still open. I assumed that she had fallen asleep at someone else’s house, and that she would be home later. I went to the sunroom, like I always do, to get Cruz’s food bowl, when I saw her. When she arrived home at 1:30 that morning, (hours before I found her room empty at 3:45,) she had pulled two of the chair cushions (2 chairs are currently awaiting their new home in the sunroom) and set them on the floor, and used a blanket from her car to sleep for the evening. She had to do that because I am an idiot.

I opened the door, let her in, and she laughed at me for locking her out of the house. Again. (I did this once before, maybe 6 months ago, at the previous house.) Then she went to bed in her room, like a normal person would do after a normal person’s crazy sister finally let her into her own house.

Zack left for work at around 9:30 a.m., and when he left, he locked the front doors behind him, as he usually does.

So at 4:15, when Katy was leaving for work this afternoon, she called me, ever so slightly frantic.

“DID YOU LOCK ME IN THIS HOUSE?” She screamed into the phone.
Calmly, I replied, “WHAT?”

I could hear her racing around the house, phone to her ear, muttering, “I FEEL LIKE SCOUT! I’M IN A CAGE” through clenched teeth. See how it’s important to this story that the deadbolts lock with a key both from the inside and the outside? In a house filled with 60 year old windows that have long been sealed shut by weather and many coats of paint, Katy walked to the back door, threatening my life, saying that if she had to call in to work because she was locked inside of her own house, she would never let me live it down.

Luckily for her, (and let’s be honest, for me), Zack left the key-locking dead-bolt on the backdoor open, so she could still get out. Good thing he’s got a bit more sense in his noggin than me, cause I totally would have locked her in.

Since I’ve lived in this house, I have locked Katy out of the house, locked Zack out of the house, locked myself in the laundry room (the doorknob only works to get in, but not back out again, so if the door closes behind you, GOOD LUCK,) and Zack has locked himself in the laundry room. I am seriously considering investing in a magnetic lock system, and then having the magnetic key embedded in my skin, as well as in Katy’s and Zack’s. Perhaps then, we can allow ourselves to move freely about our own abode.