Desperate to get out of the sun, I attempted to turn the handle and pushed into the door. It didn't turn, and the hammock bounced off the door and impaled my spleen. I shook the knob in a rage as the hammock dislodged from my spleen and crashed onto my feet.
"God Damn it!" I yelled, which caused the dogs in the yard behind me to erupt in a nervous dog breakdown. I faced the prospect of either going through her gate and traipsing through her front yard in my bikini in front of God and Sacramento to knock on her front door and tell her to let me in, or continuing to pound on the laundry room door and shout curse words. I chose the latter.
Eventually her son came to the door and opened it, staring at me, my spleen wound, and my bikini with a slight look of shock. He didn't say anything, so I asked him if he had locked me out.
"No," he said, "It wasn't me. I'm sorry."
Having been "home-schooled" during third grade, fractions are not my strong point. But I'm pretty sure Ophelia's son is 1/2 the population of that household. If he was not the one to do it, that leaves the other half. The Ophelia half. I thanked him and returned to my house where I began carefully calculating my retaliation.
Will update when complete.