A month or two ago, Tim and I signed up for a tour of Scotland. I know, I don't usually go on tours (or like, ever, since that one time in grade school), but this one is lead by people we know and has lots of other people we know on the trip. So it'll be fun.
Also fun, is that when I went to go get our passports out of our secret safe, the safe wouldn't work. Wouldn't you know it – we'd opted for a cool digital safe instead of the old work horse with a dial. We can press the buttons, but we can't make them work.
The batteries had gone dead.
Dangit. The stupid safe design meant you had to have the thing open to change the batteries. That seems like a design flaw to me.
Of course, there's a fancy key somewhere, but there's no way we're ever going to find that.
So we hired a locksmith to come over and drill the safe open and let us get at our stuff. I'm happy to say he opened it right up, just like he knew what he was doing.
He needed proof from us that it was our safe, which is kind of funny because we don't use this address for anything besides Netflix. All our bills go to the PO Box, and if it's really important it goes to Tim's work. So we had fun trying to prove to the locksmith that it was our safe and it was ok to break into it.
So now I have my passport, I'm ready to go. Too bad the plane doesn't leave until April.