The Boston Diaries

The ongoing saga of a programmer who doesn't live in Boston, nor does he even like Boston, but yet named his weblog/journal “The Boston Diaries.”

Go figure.

Tuesday, April 02, 2002

Lassie, he ain't

The front door to the Facility in the Middle of Nowhere is locked.

I grab for my keys only to find some pocket lint.

Great, I think. I got locked out. Fortunately, I see our cat, Spodie, through the window that runs along side the door.

“Spodie!” I yell. “Spodie! Get Spring and tell her I'm locked out!”

Spodie is looking at me indifferently. Typical cat.

“Spodie! Help! I'm locked out! Get help!”

Spodie then looks around, trying his hardest to ignore me.

“Spodie! Get Spring! I've fallen into the well! Get help! Hey! Wait! Don't go there! Wait!”

At this point I start pounding on the door. Eventually, Spring shows up.

“Spring! Help! I'm locked out!”

Spring, much like her owner, Spodie, is looking at me indifferently …

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