For Christmas this year, I am giving you something priceless: another fantastic story about my sister, Angela. Here are the events as I remember them.

A year or two ago, Angela picked up several part-time side jobs. One of these jobs was as a bank cleaner. A friend of my mother hooked Angela up. After the bank had closed for the night, Angela would come in and clean. I've never completely understood how the bank could get away with this, but they gave Ange all the codes to get in! I'm pretty sure that there are a number of issues with this scenario, but apparently, no one told the bank owner about Angela's brilliant history of "uh oh" moments.

One night, I am preparing myself for bed. I don't even remember what day it was - you'd have to ask Ange - but it was still a semi-decent time, maybe around 10:30, but it was a school night. When my cellphone rang, I was literally in bed, reading a book. I do recall thinking it odd that Ange was calling so late on a weekday, and for a moment, I was worried. Parry, my husband, answered the phone and handed it to me after saying hello.

"It's Ange," he said.

"Hi," she said when I got on the line.

"Hey, what's up?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing."

She proceeded to ask me about my night, making small talk like she would have on any old day. Then suddenly she said something that made me sit up in bed:

"Soooooo, I've done something stupid."

My heart began to race with anticipation and the sides of my mouth curled up into a smile. I told her to tell me, and she protested that it was something pretty bad. Man, was I excited to hear it.

"I'm at the bank, and well, I've sort of locked myself in the closet," she confessed.

There was a long pause, and then I burst into high pitched, hysterical laughter.

I asked her why it had taken her so long to tell me - what was with all the small talk? She said that she was embarrassed. I said that she damn well should be.

Somehow, while cleaning the bank and grooving to some tunes on her headphones, the closet door had swung closed behind her, locking. I continued to laugh hysterically while she related this humiliating information to me.

She didn't want to call the bank owner, but she had left a message on the phone of my mother's friend who had gotten her the job. Luckily, there was a backdoor that led to the outside at the back of the closet, BUT it was the emergency exit. plastered with warnings. Ange knew that if she went through it, all the bank alarms would go off and basically, she would be fired on the spot - not to mention possibly arrested for bank robbery. I asked her what she wanted me to do. The bank was only a street away from my parent's house, so I made the only suggestion I could think of.

"Should I call dad?" I asked her.

"Dad's away for the weekend. And if you call mom, she'll just panic."

The cops were out of the question.

"There's another problem," Ange suddenly said. "My phone's running out of batteries."

And pretty much right after she said these words, the line went dead.

I sat there in my bed, the phone held up to my face and the buzzing disconnection sound in my ear. I had no idea what to do. Should I call the police? My mother? Should I try to find the number for the bank owner? My mother's friend?

I pictured Ange alone in the dark closet, clutching her dead phone. I couldn't help it - I started laughing. I decided to make the only logical call.

I called our other sister, Jamie, who at the time lived in Phoenix.

"Guess what? Ange just called me. She's locked in the bank closet and her phone is dead!"

Jamie and I laughed until we nearly choked. Once we had calmed down, we decided that the only option was to wait for awhile and see if we heard from Ange. If I hadn't hear from her in an hour or so, I would call someone for help. I figured that if worse came to worse, she could always escape out the emergency door. I just hoped she wouldn't be shot by the cops in the process.

So, I waited...and waited...and then, the phone rang. It was Ange. She was free!

I can't remember the exact details, but I believe what happened was that my mother's friend had eventually gotten the message Ange left her and called the bank owner. The bank owner came and let Angela out. Angela had called me from her car - a liberated woman.

Not long after this, Angela was fired as a bank cleaner. What is surprising about this, however, is the fact that it was a completely different incident that precipitated her termination.

Yes, that's right - another bank disaster. This time though, I didn't get a call. Ange was cleaning the bank with her headphones on, and apparently she didn't notice that she had accidentally set off the alarm. Nor did she hear the cops when they pulled in... because she was asleep.

Oh, Ange. I love you.