Under the right circumstances, I get really excited about being locked out of my house.
The right circumstances mean:
-I’m wearing pants
-I have at least $5 on my person
Being locked out forces you to be spontaneous, and to fend for and entertain yourself with little more than the $5 in your pocket and the pants on your legs. Suddenly the day is full of unknowns. Anything could happen.
This happened to me the other night. I had planned on relaxing at home after a long day at work. Perhaps I’d make a martini, and see if I could cobble together a salad from the herbs I’ve been growing on the back porch (parsley, chives, oregano, basil…that salad would probably have been gross). I was even considering mowing the lawn, which is as high as an elephant’s eye. Then I realized I didn’t have my keys, and no one else was home.
It’s weird not being able to get into your own house. It makes you feel like a drifter, or a ghost, peering in the window at your unreachable possessions, freaking the dog out because he sees you and doesn’t know why you won’t come in.
After skulking around the perimeter of the house looking for an easy way in (i.e., a wide-open window with a ladder in front of it or an unlocked back door), I wandered back down the road and waited for a bus. Not THE bus, but really, any bus that would take me somewhere more interesting.
Waiting for any bus to come along and take you anywhere feels different than waiting for a specific bus to take you somewhere scheduled. It feels awesome! There you are; the wind in your hair, time on your side, destination unknown. For the first twenty minutes. Then it’s boring and annoying, just like waiting for the regular bus.
I ended up in Sullivan Square, where I drank beer, ate Indian food, and watched So You Think You Can Dance. It beat mowing the lawn.
I Heard Tell 
Adrianne
I got locked out of my apartment a few weeks ago, but I *really* had to go to the bathroom. SUPER BUMMED.
Lou
I give out my keys like candy on freaking Halloween in order to avoid the situation you described. What is this lemonade you speak of?
Dave Agnos
It’s really hard to beat beer and Indian food. How did you finally get back in the house?
I Heard Tell
When I finally got home that night my roomies were all home, hurrah!
Leanne Heller
Thanks for the comment! Data-entry is depressing, plus your arms start to feel like they’re going to fall off. Music makes all the difference- I hope they at least let you listen to it while you typed your fingers off?
I’d like to add one thing to your list of right circumstances. It should also not be snowing in a chaotic, blizzard-like fashion. Or you end up camping in your garage for an hour, realizing that assuming someone is coming home in the next 5 minutes is possibly the dumbest thing you’ve done since you decided that spray paint made a good carpet cleaner. (Well, it covered it up).