I decided to take a picture of the back yard and post it with some semi-profound words about the beauty and stillness of winter snow on the back yard, yadda, yadda. But when I turned to go in, the back door stuck. In a second, the beauty turned into a freezing cold early morning nightmare. There was no way this could have happened. We'd been in and out of it the day before. I yanked on it. It was stuck. How could this be? I yanked harder. It was stuck. I yanked more and considered my options. This was surreal but all too real. We don't have a key buried outside and my neighbor who has a key wasn't home. I didn't have my cell phone so I couldn't call Mark and tell him to come home and let me in. My gloveless fingers were getting really cold. My ears were wishing for their earmuffs. Oddly, my sandaled, sockless feet weren't cold. I found a metal basil nametag stuck in a pot and after some time and a lot of twisting and turning, I was able to force the screen out of the door. My fingers were really, really cold by the time I forced the inside window open and crawled through it to warmth and safety. The house never felt as welcoming as it did at that moment. The door is still stuck shut.