As we make our way outside, we walk onto my porch, I lock my door, and turn to leave. Ben says "Your door’s open," and when I go to check… he’s right. My door is slightly ajar, and he tells me this is exactly how he found it, when he walked up.

As it turns out, the lock that I normally throw is busted. I stick the key in, turn in several times, but it never latches, the bolt never extends. Jebus. I lock the top lock, and that holds. But for all of today, since this morning when I took that snow picture… my door’s been unlocked. Open. And anyone could have walked in.

How about it? Am I a burglar’s wet dream or what?

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