my landlady was over the other day for pretty much the first time since I moved in almost 2 years ago--I had to go over to my sister's to babysit little neice & nephew for a few hours--so, as I didn't really have anything embarassing lying out & about I let her have the run of the house while her plumber fixed my sink (leaky drain) & the shower (slightly clogged & dribbly head)

when I came back a couple of hours later it was pouring down rain & I couldn't get in.

because she locked the door.

I've lived here almost 2 years & I don't think I've ever once locked the door. I know I have keys somewhere, but I don't think I've ever used them.

there's just this wierd thing in my brain that doesn't like locking up, that doesn't like dealing with keys--(& the problems I've had with lost keys, or wrong keys, or broken keys, are legion)--part of it might be that I grew up in an extremely small town where nobody ever locked their door. part of it is some bizarre (& baseless) notion I have that there's something dishonest about locking things up. (I also usually leave my car unlocked, with the keys in the ignition, because that way I know where they are.)

it's kind of ironic that I'm currently working as a prison guard, where keys & locks are a pretty big chunk of the job, but there you are.