I pulled into the driveway about 7:30 p.m., tired, hungry and cranky. I wearily walked to the front door and, trying to balance my purse on one shoulder and a bag of groceries in my left hand, blindly groped around in my purse for my keys.

Frustrated because the sun was getting lower in the western sky and angry rain clouds were moving in, I dropped my purse, found the keys and got the lock opened. I dragged myself into the kitchen and dumped everything onto the center island.

Heaving a sigh of relief I’d made it inside, I went back to the front door, pointed my keys at the driveway and locked my car from inside the house using my key fob.

My stomach was growling as I hadn’t had dinner yet, but because I was home alone, I locked the front door before heading back into the kitchen.

Passing through the living room, I glanced out the windows to the patio and noticed workers had been to our house and finished some work in the back yard.

I kicked off my shoes and picked up my new cell phone to call my husband who was out of town. I stepped onto the patio and closed the back door behind me to keep dust from blowing inside the kitchen.

Immediately, I realized I’d made a mistake.

My heart sank as I jiggled the door knob. In my quest to make sure I was safe, I’d effectively locked myself out of my house and my car. Because we’re in a new place, we hadn’t gotten around to having spare keys made.

At our previous house, our neighbor had an extra set of keys to our house and, more than once, Dwight and Neta saved me. But we hadn’t met anyone here yet. My husband had the only other key, and he was a hundred miles away.

Feeling tears welling up, I suddenly remembered a magazine article that stated when something goes wrong, stop and think for five minutes before taking any action. Usually the brain calms down and workable solutions surface.

So I stopped, sat down on a lawn chair and let my mind ponder possible solutions. Breaking a window was out because none of the windows were near a door knob. Besides, I’d have to have new glass installed, and that seemed more hassle than solution.

Then I remembered the garage had a door that led into the house through the laundry room. If I could open the garage, that inside door might be unlocked.

I first had to find the spare key hidden somewhere on the chassis of my car. I laid down on the driveway and gave the underside of my car a search worthy of any New York City police officer.

No luck.

At that point, I realized I had to call in the cavalry. I called a friend and asked her to find a locksmith. Pat sent me a text message with possible phone numbers, and I made a mental note to treat her to dinner.

In less than 20 minutes, Bill the Locksmith was at the house and I breathed a sigh of relief. Ten minutes later, I was inside the house just as the sun was setting.

I learned some valuable lessons that day. First, always put my keys in my pocket, not on the kitchen counter. Second, hide a key outside for the days I forget to put the keys in my pocket.

And third, avoid at all costs telling my husband why Bill the Locksmith is on my cell phone’s speed dial list.

This article was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.