A Cinderella Story

A warning: if you're expecting a love story, a rag-to-riches story, or a story about making your dreams come true, you're reading the wrong blog. When I say Cinderella story, I mean this is a getting-locked-in-the-bedroom kind of story.

This past weekend, my sister came to visit, just to visit and hang out. I loved getting to see her and spending time with her for a couple of days when there wasn't much else going on, since most times when she's in town it's for a family get-together or for the holidays, etc, etc. This time we just got to hang out (partly because I was sick and not up to doing a whole lot else) and she was gracious enough to babysit for us on Saturday night while Nick and I blew off his ex-work party in SF (yes, they were nice enough to still invite us and we totally ditched it...) and instead went to eat the most delicious sandwiches with french fries on them (that I've been craving since I first became pregnant almost a year and a half ago) and have a beer at this place, then headed over and had coffee and dessert at my much-missed before-work coffee spot in North Beach, Caffe Greco. It turned out to be a very nice and much overdue date night. 

The next day, we slept in (my sister stayed the night at our house after babysitting the night before), made breakfast, and relaxed a little before Kristie started getting ready to head home. She stayed in our guest room/office. Nick hopped in the shower, I was sitting in the living room feeding Nora lunch, and Kristie was getting dressed in the guest room. I then heard a bit of a struggle and jiggling of the door knob, and a muffled, "I'm stuck!" Our doors, which apparently haven't been replaced or had the door knobs replaced since the house was built in 1950, aren't the most reliable for how do you say, passing in and out of rooms easily. This door was stuck. Really stuck. The doorknob didn't appear to be locked on the inside according to Kristie, but the bolt was stuck in the out position and was not budging. Nick and I  dismantled the doorknob as much as we could, with a less-than-skillful combination of hammering, prying, unscrewing, and aggressive jiggling. More than a few broken pieces of metal fell out onto the floor and we did manage to get the door knob itself out, but could still not move the actual piece keeping the door shut. We finally gave up and my sister, who is luckily about the same size as me, was able to toss her bags and herself out the window onto the side of the house (good thing we only have a one-story house). I then crawled through the window into the bedroom and with the help of a screwdriver, was able to finally get the door open. I was relieved to get the door open, but less than happy to see that we'll still need to replace the broken door knob, part of the door jamb, and probably the door.

This is what I get for saying that I've been in a 'home improvement kind of mood' lately.