As I was writing a response to Geoff on gender issues in 1980's horror films,
Danielle rang up from the lobby, asking if I'd help the girl next door. 
Apparently she was locked out of her house and she wanted me to help her get
back in. But, I'm very reluctant to help people get into places for which I'm
not absolutely positive they're authorized. So, I didn't really try, I just 
glanced at the door (all metal, one deadbolt unlocked, one medium security
doorlock), asked if the balcony was unlocked (she didn't know), so I climbed
up there (it was locked), and then I gave up and went back to writing.

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The bad thing is that now I can't sleep. I think I could've picked that lock.

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