Continued Door Saga
If you thought at this point in our intrawebz correspondence (as I have often thought) that my doorway intellect was nearing at least a novice level: you’re wrong. (Are you getting tired of being wrong? Me too.) Yet, even after my epic door opening, my roommate still believes that my doorway skillz are substandard, medial, barely functional, in fact. But, worry not dear friends, worry not. I have my roommate to teach me. And, he is slowly training me, as one might train a young child to use the potty, to use this nebulous, this ever confusing device: the door.
So, yesterday, while playing on the intrawebz in my room, I received a phone call. It was roommate. He asked if I was home. After contemplating lying, I said yes (Mistake # 1) to which he asked me to come downstairs to talk. I figured that it might be about heating, utilities, or something along those lines so I agreed to scuttle down. (Mistake #2)
When I get downstairs my roommate asks me: “Have you ever used doors like these?” *points to the door between the kitchen and dining room* (We have the old school, skeleton-key, type of doors in our apartment.) Of which, I replied: ‘Yes, I grew up in an old farm house.’
I guess my affirmation registered to him as “No, I r haz teh stoopid. Ken not haz opin teh doorz. How u do eht?” Because my roommate then launches straight into a schpeal on how to (I shit you not) close the door. I was instructed on how to turn the handle, pull the door open, and then push/pull the door until it clicks shut.
I would have never figured out how to close a door. My entire life I’ve tried so many different way to close a door:
I have learned to open and close a door…. one can only wonder at the possibilities. “Will I get a lesson on how to lock/unlock a door?” Only roommate will dictate when that arcane knowledge shall be bestowed upon me. Oh, but when it does, dear friends… when it does.