I was reading a short story by O. Henry the other day- one where he talked about an expert thief. No safe in the world was immune to his talents, thanks to his excellent skill and expert toolbox. What a satisfying feeling it must be to have that power!
And to be very frank, I even daydreamed about me having that someday. Not to unlock any safe. Nope, I have no interest in that.
My reasons come from a relatively basic need – the need to be able to get into my apartment and my car. I would want that skill just so I would never have to worry about losing my keys, which I manage to do at least once daily.
I could probably develop AND follow a mechanism to not lose them, the same way Mr. Henderson could have a cat.
OR, I can learn how to pick locks.
It wasn’t always the same, you see. We had quite a relationship – the lock, key, and me.
As a little kid, keys were quite a mystery to me. Came in all shapes and sizes, with different incisions and different hues of shiny metallic color. What was not to like? I looked at them in wonder and amazement. I knew that the day my mum let me hold one would be an unforgettable day of my life. It was years before I got to use them. I would beg my mum to let me open the locks. I would run up the stairs as if being chased by someone and get my dopamine dose of the day by click and clack of locking and unlocking.
Keys were lots of fun. Until I became accountable for them.
Fast forward a decade, I hated the sight of them – or the lack of them.
I would lose my keys almost every day. If I would ever find them, they’d be at the most obscure locations, thanks to a dreadful combination of my absent-mindedness and multitasking. Sometimes inside the freezer, the trash can, the fruit bowl, and the, worst of all, the back pocket of my pants!
“There has to be a solution to this madness,” I often thought.
There are only so many times I can keep going to the same locksmith to remake my keys before he concludes I am a thief or reports me clinically insane.
And that’s where the aspiring lockpicker persona takes over. I can learn to pick locks. Youtube has everything. How hard could it be?
Almost everyone in all the TV shows, or even movies, with anything to do with theft / breaking in requires some lock picking. Come to think of it, Never having to worry about where I kept (forgot) my keys is too damn titillating to ignore.
How hard could it really be?
All they seem to need is a hairpin, a metal wire, or even a dental floss, all of which are easy enough to keep in my purse. That and a good DIY, and I am good to go.
It turns out I overestimated my skill again. If I couldn’t keep my keys in my purse, how could I imagine that I would remember to keep the wire, the hairpin, and the floss in the purse, either?
No DIY instructions can save me, even if I can follow them, which is a reach. GPS keys are going to take some time to come. And I need to find a way to survive in the meantime.
How about moving to a lock and key-less Mars?
Friends of Words 