Running behind for our appointment, I called to Kim, "Got the keys?" like I always do.
"Yup," came the reply from the sidewalk.
I locked up, and we went for the appointment.
Close to an hour later, we return, to the shocking realization that the house key was not on the ring.
We decided to try a set of keys that the MacPhersons were holding in trust for us. A short car-ride saw us in Sherwood Park's illustrious outskirts. The keys were transfered, and visiting took place. Thinking ahead, I grabbed a hammer and a slotted screwdriver.
Good thinking, Johnstone. Turns out, they were the old keys from before we changed the knob.
So, twenty minutes with the hammer and screwdriver (and enough noise to outdo the one roofer that actually showed up) and the bits and pieces of what used to be our doorknob filled a Safeway bag.
So now, on my list of accomplishments, which include smashing a leaf-blower to bits, building stairs with a sledge hammer and chainsaw (sounds like you'd undo the stairs with that) and (unintentionally) setting a computer on fire, I can add breaking and entering. Not the crime, but I broke and I entered.