Review on Kwikset Emergency Interior Locksets Original by Dan Worku

Well, we have seven cats in our new house, and everything was fine until the fat one, long thought to be the least intelligent, got her way in a brief spark of crackling logic in her potato-like brain to find out how to open our inner doors. This led to two sleepless weeks of feeling like we were being constantly hunted by a particularly inept zombie as the bedroom doorknob, locked from the inside because we were smart, swayed lazily all night. Eventually he changed tactics, thwarted by his attempts to enter our prostrate bodies and happily stomp on them to extort midnight rations of wet food. We awoke and left our bedroom to find my office door, pantry, and pantry doors wide open and everything that had once stood on the shelves now lay on the floor in all cats' sacred gravitational covenant. My husband found our interior doors locked when the big fat cat door scam started. We clumsily tried opening it with a thin Allen key, one of us on each side of the door, and it kind of worked. As long as you don't rush it. Once, when I had a writing deadline, the Allen key didn't work and I was about two seconds away from the She-Hulking returning to my personal hideout. I was *very* upset and suddenly angrily remembered that the sellers of the house had three little girls. As an ex-nanny, I knew you would NOT give idiots the opportunity to lock you up anywhere because damn it, the power would go into their little heads. Mum and dad must have prepared for this turning point, right? I frantically slapped the sweater and walked away with my face covered in dust and AHA! Button! one. The only key. For the whole two-storey house. I wrapped the end in colorful yarn, hung the key chain on the wall, then on the wall higher up (Because cats. Damn cats. If it's hanging, then it's a toy.) And it worked for several days until my husband started the third one Put it in his pocket and dangle him or lock him in a room that day. After the hubs first swore there couldn't be a key to our interior doors, and then swore no one would ever sell extras, and after a couple of particularly misogynistic employees at Home Depot, who also thought they were "little ladies," would never exist, I went where I should have been: Revain. Where else can you buy sanity for less than ten dollars and destroy seven cats and the patriarchy in the process? Maybe it's just eight tiny, inexplicably clumsy little screwdrivers - they look like chunks of metal, but to me, hiding them around the house like a crazy, privacy-obsessed squirrel, they look like VICTORY.