At my work office (not my home office) I had closed my door for a little privacy while I ate lunch. A while later, a coworker came by and knocked on the door.

I said, “Yeah, come in.”

Nothing.

I repeated, “Come in.”

Nothing.

I got up and opened the door to let him in. We did our business, and when he was leaving he told me my door had been locked. I checked the handle, and sure enough, it was locked.

I turned the little switch on the inside handle and tried the outside handle again. It was still locked. I don’t have a key for this door; when I first got this office, I was told who to contact for a key if I wanted one. But I’ve never needed one, as I’ve never tried to lock it, and I never even close it when I’m outside the room.

I turned the little switch back, and it was still locked. I tried several different ways of unlocking the thing -– switch horizontal, switch vertical, turning the inside handle, turning the outside handle, and any combination I could think of –- but nothing worked. Well, I guess it’s broken, I thought. I didn’t worry about it anymore that day. I just didn’t shut the door again.

The next day, when I came in in the morning, I fiddled with the lock some more. I went through all the permutations of switch settings and turnings several times again, but it still wouldn’t unlock. Oh well, it must be broken.

Later in the day, when I passed the receptionist’s desk, I told the two women there that the lock on my office door was broken. One helpfully explained, “You just turn the little knob on the inside handle.”

“Yeah, I tried that,” I said. “Up, down, both handles, I can’t get it to unlock.” I made sure to explain that my door is open, so I can get in my office, but I can’t close it for not being able to unlock it.

They said they’d get a repair man out to fix it for me, and I thanked them.

An hour or so later, she called me to learn where my office was in the building (I’m new here). I gave her directions. “I’ve called the repair people,” she said. “Someone will be here in a while.”

“OK, thanks,” I said.

A couple hours later, the receptionist called me again. The repair man was on site, and I need to meet him at the elevators on my floor. I went and met the repair guy. We greeted briefly, and I took him to my office.

He tested the lock and popped it right open. “It works,” he said.

“What the?” I stammered.

“You just push it in to lock it, and turn this inside handle to unlock it,” he said, as he popped it open in illustration of my moronity. [Yeah, I made that word up.]

“Oh my God,” I sighed.

“It happens all the time,” he said. “We gets lots of calls like this. Don’t worry about it.”

I apologized for getting him called all the way out here.

“Hey, this is the easiest call I’ve had all day,” he said with a smile. “I don’t mind.”

He went on back out the way he came in, and I was left standing there, looking at that damn door handle. I locked it and unlocked it a couple times –- it worked just fine. But of course it’s easy when you know the “combination.” And even so, I swear I performed that combination of switch and handle at least once in my attempts to figure it out that morning.

Man, I really hope he just told the receptionists that he “fixed the door.” I hope they don’t think I’m an idiot for being unable to unlock my own door handle. I mean, really, I work with some pretty damn complicated and expensive products, but I can’t open a $5 door lock.

Bullgrit

I was having a sever allergy attack — my nose was itching so bad I wanted to put a steel wool scrubber on the end of a pencil and shove it up and down in my nostrils. What the hell did I breathe in to cause this attack? I took a Benedryl to overcome the histamines in my body, and 30 minutes later, I was barely able to keep my head upright.

I’ve heard that hospitals give Benedryl as a sleeping pill, and I believe it. An hour later, I’m nodding, nodding, nodding while seated at the computer. But the maddening itching and watery eyes were gone.

If I don’t quit this and just go to bed, I might wake up in the morning with my head on my keyboard. Man, that stuff is powerful. It’s like I’m in slow motion. My whole body wants to just stop.

Sorry for the weak post, today.

Sleep. Oh wonderful sleep. I will surrender.

Bullgrit

Hugs and kisses to you.

Everyone please wish my mom a happy birthday.

Bullgrit

Well, we met the new guy in our game group. We knew he was much younger than us (he’s 23, we’re 32, 38, 41, 51), and it shows. It’s kind of funny, really. He’s still finishing college, we’re all well into our careers. He’s young and single, we’re old and married.

Getting past that difference in our personalities, I was surprised how inexperienced he is with our preferred game — Dungeons & Dragons. He only started playing back this past summer. The rest of us have been playing for 7-30+ years.

I would have thought this lack of experience with the game could be a good thing — would let us mold him to our play styles. But in practice, for the first time he gamed with us, it proved a bit troublesome. We had to explain everything about the game, even how to do the most basic and simplest actions.

My jury’s still out on whether this guy would be a good addition to our group. He does seem interested in the game, and he involves himself in it, which is a very good thing for a player of RPGs, but the youth and inexperience is an obstacle for feeling comfortable with him.

Bullgrit