The problem was not that I needed to get down from the tower, but that I need to get back up into it.


I was out bringing the laundry in and managed to lock myself out of the place we were staying at that weekend. Of course, being me, my cell phone was upstairs in the locked house, we weren’t staying in a motel (so no spare key handy in the motel office!) and the downstairs bathroom window only opens about 10 cm (4 inches for my American readers). Also, the phone number of the owner was also locked inside.

Thankfully it was a bit of an apartment complex, so I go next door to see if anyone has a spare key or the owners phone number (there’s a note here saying please drive quietly down the drive late at night or the owners get irate phone calls, ergo, someone must have their number.)

Sadly, the owner is apparently in Europe currently. That rules that option out!

There’s still hope though, it’s a warm day and I didn’t close the upstairs bathroom window after showering that morning, so it’s open, and you can open it all the way out. Closer to a metre (3.2 feet), so much closer to being able to fit me though it!

Thankfully, the next neighbour with a car in the driveway has a ladder. So I manage to borrow the ladder to attempt to crawl into a window roughly 7 metres up. Did I mention the ladder is probably closer to 5 metres? Well it was.

After completing my masters degree in engineering to get the [insert expletive here] ladder open and extended (it’s not like my Dads ladder!), I of course realise that there is not a chance in heaven that I will be able to get from the top of the ladder to the window. Not without launching myself off it anyway! You’ll all be happy to know that I’m smarter than that!

The next door neighbours to us pulled up in their car, and I successfully managed to ask one of them to help me to see if we could extend the ladder up by bending it (at the moment it’s like an upside down V shape, and I know some ladders you can straighten out for added length, like my Dads!). Obviously I need someone to hold it for me if I want to do that though.

I barely have time to explain what’s happened and the man tells me his other name is Spiderman, is half way up the ladder and dangling through the bathroom mirror. (I should probably note here that the owner of the ladder said he was sorry he couldn’t help but he was on home detention and had a bracelet on so couldn’t leave the house. Hopefully him lending me the ladder will earn him some good karma!)

Spiderman opens the door from the inside and I’m back inside with the laundry. And yes, I returned the ladder!

I’m pretty sure that’s minus one point for the unwomanlyness, which is another story for another day.