We accidentally locked ourselves out

It was a pain in more ways than one

Our house has a door problem, namely that my wife can’t open it. It’s all we talk about – well, it’s a three-way split between that, our baby, and how we definitely don’t want to have any more babies.

It’s the kind of thick, impregnable door that would have you checking the wall cavities for Bavarian gold and stolen horses. Our landlord installed it after the last tenants left, which suggests he’s trying to prevent them from returning. We should be happy about this surfeit of security, with an infant in the house, whom we’d very much like to keep safe from the outside world. Unfortunately, it might be keeping us out as much as anyone else, as we discovered to our cost.

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