"Mom, I locked the keys in the truck. And my phone. And my backpack. And I have to go to work right now . . ."
Lily got to work fine, but what do I do now?
Brad was in Texas visiting his cousin--with the only other key to the truck. After talking with him, he said to call a locksmith, but to be careful because they would try to raise the quoted price on me. I'm glad he warned me. That's exactly what they did. The price quoted over the phone TRIPLED when they were in the driveway, and I dismissed them before thinking about what I should do instead. We'd waited almost two hours at this point, my kids hadn't had dinner, and they still had homework, baths, and a football practice on the agenda for the night.
Who Ya Gonna Call?
I should have thought to call Tim before anyone else. Tim built our house. Tim dug our pool. Tim saved us from a flood. Tim sent his A/C guy when we were sweltering all night in 92* in-house temperatures. Of course Tim could fix this.
In thirty minutes he had figured out how to open the door (Lily tried to catch it as she shut it, so it wasn't shut tight and could be pulled open a little at the top) and fished the keys out through the small hole.
I love this guy.
Thanks, Tim. You're the best.