There's something going on with me and door locks. It's very strange. Locks in my presence eventually refuse to function.
First, there was the lock on the bathroom door at the Renon house. One day while I was in the bathroom, the lock froze, refusing to let me out. An odd thing in itself, as the 'lock' on the door wasn't even in the locked position. I never locked that door. There was no reason to. Nonetheless, once I had shut the door on this not so fine day, the mechanism froze and the knob merely spun in pointless circles. There was no window in that bathroom, no other way out than the door.
On that occasion, as I have written before, my son happened to be home (my lucky stars!), and although he was not able either to open the door from the outside, he was able to go next door and seek the help of our neighbor, a sort of jack of all trades and solver of all problems. After much fruitless tinkering, he was finally able to force entry with the use of a hefty square-headed hammer, with which he bashed the knob straight through the door and out my side, thereby obliterating the entire demonic mechanism.
On the next occasion, same house, I had come home from enjoying a coffee at a nearby café only to find the lock on the front door permanently stuck in the locked position. The key would turn just as much as it pleased, and yet the door remained stubbornly locked. Once again, the same neighbor, having himself been out for a coffee, came home, surveyed the situation (perhaps surveying me as well with a suspicious eye) and rushed down to the lock shop to return with a locksmith. In this case, as with the bathroom door, the entire lock had to be removed (though not this time with a square-headed hammer. 'To be clear, he has the proper tools,' the neighbor remarked).
On from the Renon house to my little room in Kampung Kumpul. Within a month or two, I find the bathroom door locked fast. Happily, I am on the outside this time, for there is now no son and no helpful neighbor to come to the rescue. I thank goodness I am not on the inside, for there are no windows in this bathroom either, but I understand that the need to pee will soon become urgent. But there is Pak Aan, the groundkeeper, whom I call on my cell phone. Aan shows up with no tools whatsoever, tinkers for a time anyway with a fork and a spoon from my utensil drawer, and then finally opens the door by ramming his shoulder against it a couple times. It is found, upon examination, that this lock had not been manually locked by a depression of the button on the inside. It had simply locked itself and then frozen in that position. Eerie, if you ask me. The mechanism is taped down securely, and the door remains in this condition for the remainder of my stay at Kampung Kumpul.
And now we come to my residence in the new apartment on Gang Merdu Komala--newly built from the ground up, every lock a virgin, having never been keyed. Within days, the lock on the sliding doors which let onto the wall garden at the back of the house freezes solid in the open position. The workers, who are still in fact working on the final bits and pieces of the house, bang and pry and generally violate this lock for the next hour or so and are finally able to pop it out of the frame. A new lock and new key are procured. Perhaps two days later, this lock too freezes in open position, the key stuck fast in the slot and able to turn neither one way nor the other. It is decided just to forget the whole damn thing and simply install a bolt on the inside--which is what should have been done in the first place, actually, as the wall garden is just a narrow space affording no avenue of entry from outside the house, nor is there any worldly reason one would want to lock himself into this space from outside the house).
Finally, I discovered last night that the padlock for the front gate--also brand new, mind you, used not more than a handful of times--is stuck in the open position and will not close, no matter how Herculean the effort. Again, my lucky stars are shining, to the extent that this did not freeze in the locked position, thus forbidding either entry or exit, depending on whether I happened to be coming or going. Nonetheless, it is inconvenient, as the gate cannot now be locked at night or when I'm out of the house.
So what's going on with me and locks? Ah, that is the question, Watson. Is it coincidence? Really? That many coincidences in a row? Or is it some sort of supernatural conspiracy? Is there a message? Is God trying to tell me something? Or is there some psychic power within me that is able to influence the mechanics of locks, though only to my detriment? Of what use would such a power be?
It is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. It is indecipherable. Ah, if only Sparky were here, for that dog ate quantum physics for breakfast and metaphysics for dinner and swallowed enigmas whole, without even belching. Interpretation was his middle name and mystery his inseparable consort. Speak to me now, Sparky. Don't lock me out.
First, there was the lock on the bathroom door at the Renon house. One day while I was in the bathroom, the lock froze, refusing to let me out. An odd thing in itself, as the 'lock' on the door wasn't even in the locked position. I never locked that door. There was no reason to. Nonetheless, once I had shut the door on this not so fine day, the mechanism froze and the knob merely spun in pointless circles. There was no window in that bathroom, no other way out than the door.
On that occasion, as I have written before, my son happened to be home (my lucky stars!), and although he was not able either to open the door from the outside, he was able to go next door and seek the help of our neighbor, a sort of jack of all trades and solver of all problems. After much fruitless tinkering, he was finally able to force entry with the use of a hefty square-headed hammer, with which he bashed the knob straight through the door and out my side, thereby obliterating the entire demonic mechanism.
On the next occasion, same house, I had come home from enjoying a coffee at a nearby café only to find the lock on the front door permanently stuck in the locked position. The key would turn just as much as it pleased, and yet the door remained stubbornly locked. Once again, the same neighbor, having himself been out for a coffee, came home, surveyed the situation (perhaps surveying me as well with a suspicious eye) and rushed down to the lock shop to return with a locksmith. In this case, as with the bathroom door, the entire lock had to be removed (though not this time with a square-headed hammer. 'To be clear, he has the proper tools,' the neighbor remarked).
On from the Renon house to my little room in Kampung Kumpul. Within a month or two, I find the bathroom door locked fast. Happily, I am on the outside this time, for there is now no son and no helpful neighbor to come to the rescue. I thank goodness I am not on the inside, for there are no windows in this bathroom either, but I understand that the need to pee will soon become urgent. But there is Pak Aan, the groundkeeper, whom I call on my cell phone. Aan shows up with no tools whatsoever, tinkers for a time anyway with a fork and a spoon from my utensil drawer, and then finally opens the door by ramming his shoulder against it a couple times. It is found, upon examination, that this lock had not been manually locked by a depression of the button on the inside. It had simply locked itself and then frozen in that position. Eerie, if you ask me. The mechanism is taped down securely, and the door remains in this condition for the remainder of my stay at Kampung Kumpul.
And now we come to my residence in the new apartment on Gang Merdu Komala--newly built from the ground up, every lock a virgin, having never been keyed. Within days, the lock on the sliding doors which let onto the wall garden at the back of the house freezes solid in the open position. The workers, who are still in fact working on the final bits and pieces of the house, bang and pry and generally violate this lock for the next hour or so and are finally able to pop it out of the frame. A new lock and new key are procured. Perhaps two days later, this lock too freezes in open position, the key stuck fast in the slot and able to turn neither one way nor the other. It is decided just to forget the whole damn thing and simply install a bolt on the inside--which is what should have been done in the first place, actually, as the wall garden is just a narrow space affording no avenue of entry from outside the house, nor is there any worldly reason one would want to lock himself into this space from outside the house).
Finally, I discovered last night that the padlock for the front gate--also brand new, mind you, used not more than a handful of times--is stuck in the open position and will not close, no matter how Herculean the effort. Again, my lucky stars are shining, to the extent that this did not freeze in the locked position, thus forbidding either entry or exit, depending on whether I happened to be coming or going. Nonetheless, it is inconvenient, as the gate cannot now be locked at night or when I'm out of the house.
So what's going on with me and locks? Ah, that is the question, Watson. Is it coincidence? Really? That many coincidences in a row? Or is it some sort of supernatural conspiracy? Is there a message? Is God trying to tell me something? Or is there some psychic power within me that is able to influence the mechanics of locks, though only to my detriment? Of what use would such a power be?
It is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. It is indecipherable. Ah, if only Sparky were here, for that dog ate quantum physics for breakfast and metaphysics for dinner and swallowed enigmas whole, without even belching. Interpretation was his middle name and mystery his inseparable consort. Speak to me now, Sparky. Don't lock me out.
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