I am grateful for my bed.

Usually when I come home at night, I go through the back door, which is usually unlocked unless it's late-er. Well. Friday night when I got home, the back door...was locked. And of course, I didn't have my keys with me because my car was in the shop, so why did I need my keys, right? Yeah I didn't even think about taking them with me on my night's endeavor's {aka bead party with Haley Stew and friends}. So. Plan B was to go through the garage {where the spare key is}, which I really didn't want to do for fear of waking the whole house up. At this point, I was out of options {or so I thought}, so I reluctantly punched in the garage code, crouched under as soon as I could, and bolted to the button thing to close it again so that the noise would last as not long as possible. I go to get the spare key, and guess what's not there? Yeah. No spare key. Go figure. So. I knocked on the door for a good long time, hoping someone would hear me {even though everyone upstairs sleeps on the other side of the house}. Ten minutes later, no one has heard me yet and my knuckles {that's a weird word} are starting to hurt. So...me and my locked-out-of-my-house self have no idea what to do. The ONLY thing I could think of to do was to just sleep in the garage. I looked around and found one of our old couch pillows, 3 baby blankets, 2 towels, and 2 sweatshirts, with which I made a "bed."

And that's how I slept. I kept thinking as I laid there trying to fall asleep about 1) how I wished I had a couch in my garage like Bonnie Leman, and 2) how grateful I was for my real blanket and my real pillows and my real bed. And for not-motion-censored-lights. I swear I woke up at least ten times because every time I moved, the light would turn on!! Anyway. It was cold, I was exhausted all day at work the next day, and the side of my leg is bruised from laying on my side on the concrete for so long. But hey, I guess it makes for a good story.