Tag Archives: locks

disposition in the sun

One of the quirks of the building I live in is how the lock on the front door is like a magic-eye poster. For the key to turn and grant you access to the wondrous 3D interior you have to insert it and then enter a zen trance enabling you to pull the key out just the very tiniest amount and apply the precise amount of delicate pressure. It’s a good way of measuring my state of mind when I return home on foot (when I bike I use a different door to the building which is much less finicky). How easy has it been to slough off the day’s events and enter that way of thinking?

It was sunny today, not warm exactly, but it felt spring-like. So I went out to the water to read and look at the mountains. I’ve written a draft of my last paper for the term and it’s turned from something I was ready to abandon into a piece of writing that actually has some interesting combinations of ideas (about irreverence towards books and how China Mieville should influence a youth services librarian). It must have been a very excellent day because for the first time ever I opened the front door on the first try.

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not my problem. at all.

I’ve been out of my old condo for a month and a half and resigned from the condo corporation a month and it’s been great. Then tonight after I fell asleep watching hockey my phone rang.

“Wha? Za! Ba!” I answer it. It’s the property manager from the condo. Apparently no one told him I’d resigned. “Are you home?” he asks, and because I’m fuzzy from the nap I say yes. Someone’s locked out of the building and he wants me to go let the person in. Oh. Well. I think, sure, I can do that. I’m only a block away and I’m sure they haven’t changed the keyless code. I’m putting on my shoes.

“I mean, you got home. I don’t know what his problem is.” And the fuzziness catches up with me. I don’t have to do this. I shouldn’t have even said I could. What the fuck am I doing? I momentarily feel for people who go back to bad relationships.

“Oh,” the manager says, “So how’s your selling going?” And I have to explain that I’m not there, it’s sold and I don’t know why no one told him. It also means they probably haven’t paid their bills. He apologizes but I still say I can go over to the building and check the front door. I don’t know why I say this. I hate telephones so much.

I get there and it is the very front door that’s locked. The one before the keyless entry. I don’t have a key for that and there’s no one outside. I immediately turn around and come home. I think the person who’d called the property manager might have been in a car across the street, because a horn honked as I left.

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