Over the past few weeks, some local contractors have been gradually burying M’s Dome under the Auld Sod.
M – AKA Ian – was very interested to see the progress for obvious reasons. So when he came by yesterday we toddled over. In the midst of the festivities he tried to enter the dome.
The door was locked.
The keys to the door were clearly visible on the windowsill. Inside.
There’s only one door.
Someone who shall remain nameless except that it was Landlady said something to the effect of “I told you an escape hatch would be a good idea. Did you listen to me? Noooo…”
We really were kind of stuck. There didn’t seem to be any way to enter the dome that didn’t involve major, expensive damage.
We found a way. It was a bit finagly and time-consuming, but we did get in. And while we were finagling and consuming time, M – clearly trying to look on the bright side – said “That’s one good thing about living in Mormon country, I guess.”
“Really?” I asked. “And what’s that?”
“When Mormons come around and find your door unlocked, they helpfully lock it for you instead of ripping you off.”
ETA: Before anybody says it, remedial action has been taken to prevent recurrence.