Today can only get better, right?

You know those mornings you have when everything seems like it's going to go right, but those little things happen that make it go so, so wrong? Let me tell you about this morning.

Everything was going according to plan this morning. The kids were breakfasted, wifey was out the door on time and on her bus to work. I had worked through my gear packing and had everything ready (or so I thought... this is where it started going wrong, except I didn't know at the time). So when 8am rolls around, I call out to my son "Come on boy! Time to get you to school!"

So we went out the front to get his shoes on. Being helpful, he closed the door behind us.

And it latched.

It didn't dawn on me right away, I was focussed on getting his shoes on, getting my coat and high visibility gear on, getting ready and going. It's only when I performed my pocket taps that I realised, with mounting horror, that my wallet, my cellphone and my housekeys were all in the house. And we were outside. And that the front door was locked!

I considered my options


Ignoring it and just going to work won't work. My wallet contains my security card which gives me access to the basement where I park my bicycle, and then access to the showers, the stairs, everything. I couldn't even call my boss and say I was late. Or a locksmith. But everything's okay, isn't it? Inside my nephew (staying with us for his studies) was sleeping. Surely he would wake up. So I started knocking on the door.

And knocking.

And knocking.

And knocking.

I hammered on the door for ten minutes straight. My fists were sore, my temper had risen, and my son - bless him - thought it was a great game and joined in. But nothing stirred within. So things got drastic.

I went to the garden and found the longest stick I could. I went around the back of the house and pulled the patio furniture over to a convenient spot, stood precariously on the furniture, reached up to his second story bedroom window and started tapping. Over and over, arm stretched, balanced on the arms of the chair, tapping at the window like some lovesick beau.

After a few minutes of doing this I climbed down and went around the front to console myself. I pounded again. And again. And again... and suddenly the door unlocked!

With effusive thanks my son and I spilled back into the house while he climbed back up the stairs in a manner than only surly twenty-year-olds can manage.

I collected my wallet. My phone. My KEYS! Pocketed them all and then embarked after locking the door behind us. We were on our way!

Or were we?

My bike is stored in the garage. My daughter takes the opener with her because she's shorter than me, and I can reach the secret little button hidden under the right-hand eave of the building. So I get down there and press the button.

My son has been playing a game recently. When the garage door opens he shouts 'whoaaa! It's lifting me! It's lifting me!', without actually touching the door. I've asked him to stay clear each time he's done it this week, and sure enough, today I was mid "hey son, get away from the..." when he accidentally bumps the door. And because the door has those safety features built in, it stops. At an angle. Protruding into the driveway. Open enough to see under... but open far enough for me to stand in front of it and reach back and press that switch.

You. Have. To. Be. Kidding.

I stretch and strain. I can't reach the button. I'm too big and heavy to stand on the door to get to the switch. Either side of the door is fenced in by stone walls, so I can't approach it from the sides. So I grab my son, prop him up on the door and say "reach around behind there. I'll hold you. Just feel around for the button and press it".

That's where his mild arachnophobia kicks into high gear.

"Nooooo! Nooooo!" he screams, "Ssssspiders!"

"There aren't any spiders there. I reach around there every day. There aren't spiders!"

"Nooo, not me. Spiders!"

So I can't, no matter how much I cajole or encourage, get him to reach around the eave and find the button to close the door!

Argh!

So I climb up through the garden behind the garage, onto the roof, along the centre-line and lay down on the corrugated iron to reach down, push all the spiders out of the way and press the button. The door closes. I'm happy, I climb down and open it.

I now have my bike, my wallet, my phone and my keys.

I walk my son up to school. It's only 5 minutes. I give him a kiss, scrub a little of his breakfast off his face (what a grub he is!), and promise to see him in the evening. I get on my bike and head down the Wellington hills into the CBD to get to work.

What a ride. Fast! I caught all the lights! I worked up a good sweat! I made it in record time! I was able to access the basement, put my bike away, head into the building, go to the showers, clean down, scrub off, dry off... and get my clothes out of my bag.

Only to realise I forgot to pack underpants.