A Road Less Travelled

Reasonable or not, one has certain expectations about how the world works. One generally expects that if one puts something in a cupboard, it will be there when they come back. The exceptions are those who believe that it’s existence is a mere statistical probability, and those who live with children, who generally expect that things put away in the cupboard will turn up in the bathtub, under someone’s bed, or years later in the garage. Or, as another example, I often expect that when I close my bedroom door, it will stay closed until someone opens it again. Notice, I don’t even assume that I will be the one to open it. I acknowledge that  some child, particularly a certain one-year old who’s starting to figure out doorknobs, might barge in after I’ve closed the door. I merely expect that it will stay closed until someone opens it.

 This however is not a reasonable expectation when the door  ceases to be attached to the door frame. Remember how I just got the light in my room fixed a few weeks ago? Remember how I joked that now my door would probably break again? Well, here we go again…

 It is time to remaster the art of leaning the door at that perfect angle  which maximizes privacy and noise blockage, yet maintains sufficient distance at the base for stability. Sadly, this is not a skill which is generally deemed resume worthy. I could write up quite an impressive byline on my ability to handle detached doors. (Generally I recommend counseling for them—oh, wait, wrong kind of detached…) I’ve even navigated my way around the leaning-in-place door while holding a toddler, a water bottle and a palm pilot at the same time.

  Now the critical may point out that since my light has always been functioning while my door was broken, I’ve never had to navigate this obstacle in the dark. To them I say “Bah” and point out that they are grossly overestimating my ability to remember to use the wall switch instead of the switch on the light when I leave the room…