Do you ever notice how when people haven't blogged in a while they tend to write a reason and apologize? Interesting.
The night I went home for Thanksgiving I'd said good night to my parents, and was in my room with my cat. It was raining furiously outside. I was ready to go to bed, but decided to get some water first, since I was thirsty. Plus, Anya (my cat) wanted to go out.
This is a very boring story so far, can you tell? Don't worry, it gets exciting soon.
I technically could have obtained water from the sink in the bathroom to quench my thirst (as elegyrl pointed out afterwards), but I wanted a water bottle from the fridge. I put my hand on the doorknob and turned and pulled. Nothing happened. I tried again. Still nothing.
Sometimes doorknobs are a little slippery, and I'd just put lotion on. I wiped off my hands and used my shirt to turn the doorknob. The latch didn't move. I tried again and again. I struggled for a little bit. The door would not open, because turning the knob did not move the latch.
I had two choices: I could go to bed and hope it would all be better in the morning, or I could call my parents from my cell phone and hope they could get me out. I called my parents. They came down the hall and, when they discovered they could not open the door either, got out the tools.
After attempting several different door-opening techniques, it was determined that my dad should come in through my window to try to knock the pins out of the hinges (my little dings on the pins produced no result--they were really stuck). Before he could get soaked in the rain, however, Mother Edit used some sort of magic (the doorknob was off at that point, except for the latch, which still wouldn't budge) and the door swung open.
The next day Father Edit replaced the door with a new knob which worked.
I told my parents if they didn't want me to go back to Utah, there was a better way to say it than by locking me in my room.