The Door Won

It stuck out like a sore thumb.

A sore thumb which had a wart on it.

I glared back at it balefully.

This wasn't getting me anywhere.  The trash wasn't going to take itself out.  And sleep was beckoning me.(Now, I must stop this tale here for a disclaimer:  My parents had asked me to take out the trash before my game that night.  I had completely forgotten.  With that being said.  Let us get back to this epic that is unfolding.)  As it was midnight, I was rightfully tired.  In my mind, I had two options.

1.  To leave it till the morning...The more tempting offer.

2.  Or to take it out then and there.

I picked option 2.  I didn't want to wake up the following morning to find a trove full of waste to take out and dispose of first thing.  That isn't a pleasant wake up call on a Saturday morning.  And it doesn't make the mother happy.  Thus, I was again, met with two options on how to carry out my plan of attack of throwing out the garbage.

1.  To go through the garage.  (Which is the normal exit to throw away trash.)

2.  Or, to go through the front door and walk around the house to the side to take care of it.

Once again, option 1 was quickly eliminated due to the fact that it was midnight.  Since the garage door sounds like a dying cow choking on a duck, I didn't want to wake the rest of the household.  Hence, you find me walking outside to take out the trash at midnight.  I quickly run back in the house (you never know if a random Orc will try to cut you with his shank) and turn to close the front door.

Then it hit me.

Crud.

I have this thing.  I can dead-bolt the back door no problem.  But the front door is nigh impossible for me to dead-bolt.  I gently try to slide the dead-bolt into the lock.  It hit wood.  I thumped my head against the door. I breathed slowly.  Then opened the door and closed it quickly, pulling hard on it when it shut.  Then tried latching it.  It failed.  I tried all different kinds of combinations.  I tried tapping the door multiple times with my fist, and then gently tugging.  I begged and prayed.  But the bolt refused to budge.  I even banged my head on it.  Needless to say, it didn't work.  I kept at it.  Not wanting to go to bed with the door unlocked.

I checked my phone.  It read 12:30.  

I nearly cried.  

I hate you, door.

I quietly approached it and opened and closed it.  I nervously flipped the dead bolt.  It clicked.  I nearly did a dance out of sheer joy.  I had at last conquered it.  But the door had stolen thirty minutes of precious sleep. The door had won this bout.

Moral of the story: Take the trash out when you're told.