Deep Thoughts

Deep Thoughts

Living in an apartment building means being obsessed with locks and keys -- especially if you own one of the units. Who has an "emergency" key to my door? Who should? Whose keys do I have? Did I get a key to the basement door when the locks were changed? Do I have the key to the roof? I have ten keys on my key ring, and I don't remember what some of them are for . . . Most of the time I'm very good at parallel parking. But I've noticed that this really depends on the mood I'm in. If I'm feeling calm and collected, I can slide into a tight space on the first try -- after many years of practice. If I'm feeling stressed or just generally cranky, I inevitably make the angle too deep or shallow, and I have to start all over again -- meanwhile holding up the traffic behind me, which just adds to the pressure -- or I end up doing the "full spin" with the steering wheel in opposite directions six or seven times to fit in . . . Overheard: "If I was good at leaving it's because you held the door." . . . The end is never what frightens me. What frightens me is seeing it coming . . .
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