The Tie That Binds

I just got off the phone with Mrs. Robbo. She had returned home from work to discover that the contractor, when finished messing about with the kitchen this morning, managed to lock us out of Orgle Manor. (I won't explain our system of keys and deadbolts - it's too complicated. Suffice to say, Mrs. R was locked out.)

Fortunately, when Mrs. R called to tell me of this dilemma, I was able to give her the sooper-sekret instructions about which window could be successfully jimmied. Following my advice, she was able to get in after all.

This coming January 27 will be the twentieth anniversary of the night Mrs. Robbo and I met. (Lest you think I don't pay attention to such things.) The highlight of that date was my having to jimmy a window to get us into my apartment, having absent-mindedly locked myself out. It proved to be great entertainment to Mrs. Robbo, as well as proving to her my resourcefulness in a pinch. I like to think that was what got the old relationship-ball rolling.

Who knew that house-breaking would prove such a bond over all these years?