How I came to break into a house

Last december, I got a secondhand microwave from my parents for Sinterklaas. I don’t know much about microwaves, but I suppose that, as that generally goes with tehnology, older microwaves are heavier than new ones, and less compact. My microwave must have been transferred to me directly from the stone age, because it is huge and it is heavy. This led to a problem: I was staying with my parents for Sinterklaas, and I had to get the microwave to Maastricht, which usually takes me nearly three hours by train.
As I was obviously never going to succeed in getting this enormous thing there myself, my mother offered to bring it to Maastricht by car. This was planned for yesterday, and indeed she was in front of my house at about 11.30. She called me to get me downstairs, so that I could help getting the microwave to the first floor.
And this is where everything went terribly wrong.
I left the door of my room open.
I didn’t take a jacket.
I bounced off the stairs and out of the house, then closed the door automatically.
And I didn’t have my keys (they were in the pocket of my jacket).

My wallet, my laptop, everything I would need to go back to my parents’ for the weekend was in my room. Which, as I mentioned, was also left wide open. It was just the front door that I closed (and there is no backdoor to the house). After scolding at me a little , my mother and I tried to ring the doorbell a thousand times, but of course nobody had returned to Maastricht yet , as the holiday wasn’t over yet. I tried calling my landlord, but he wasn’t even in the country. The guy with the spare key didn’t pick up his phone. Oh, and did I mention it was raining?
We decided to pick my sister up first, and try to call the spare-key-guy again later. In the end I did get him on the phone, only to find out that he was in Amsterdam at the moment, more than 200 km from Maastricht. He was willing to get to me as soon as possible, but it would take quite long and I didn’t really want to be responsible for his having to come all that way just because I had been an idiot.

So then we (me, my mother and my sister) decided to break in. It took some time, a few odd tools and a little effort, but in the end we actually managed it. I’m not exactly going to say how (because, you know, don’t want any more people breaking in) but I do feel strangely accomplished in being able to say that I actually broke into a house succesfully, albeit my own. Mission impossible and Ocean’s Twelve ain’t got nothing on me. Well, that is, ignoring the fact that I locked myself out in the first place.