Come and knock on our door…
Our apartment rests on Court Street, in stumbling distance from bars, walking distance from whatever kind of fast food a grumbling stomach can desire and equally as accessible to any confused stranger or worse, an acquaintance who feels overly comfortable with entering without knocking.
I’m not sure if it’s a boy thing or a girl thing, but it’s incredibly frustrating (and a little scary) to leave for class early in the morning and find that the door has been unlocked since the wee hours of the morning or the last hours of a good night, depending on your point-of-view. It’s definitely a “thing.”
Doors and the general concept of gently shutting (not ferociously slamming) and locking are very simple to me. I miss the days of the dorms, despite being locked out on more than one occasion when the door locked automatically.
In short, here is an outline of the door thing of 2011…possibly 2012:
Bother:There’s nothing worse than stumbling out of bed, rushing to get ready for an early morning shift at the dining hall and finding that the front door has been unlocked since the end of Alex’s exploits the previous night. Somehow he managed a class-free Wednesday so that means Tuesday night is his weekday gift. For me, Tuesday is tiring and Wednesday is exhausting.
I tell Emily when the door was unlocked and she responds with a sarcastic, “Of course it was.” Even when he misplaced his keys for a temporary amount of time, I wanted the door locked because I find sleeping in an unsecure apartment unsettling.
My Irrational Fear: In short, I’m afraid of being awakened by a sketchy figure for the whole rape and murder routine. I say it jokingly to mask my true panic. If I survive, then every OU student will receive the automated email that will list the vague personal details: the usual white, 5’7”-ish, jeans and a North Face.
If I end up lifeless then my picture will be on the front of The Post with a testament to my kind nature and appetite for life. Fingers crossed for a sympathetic young reporter who will pump up my hopes and dreams to emphasize the loss. I hope they don’t use the picture on my student ID.
Bother:When the temperature inside is a little warm instead of cranking up the AC and inflating our electric bill, Emily and I resort to the scantily clad solution, which clashes with unannounced friends who lack the urge to knock. Our friends knock and even call to make their presence known and for the most part, Alex’s amigos knock too — usually after trying the doorknob and finding it locked.
My Irrational Fear:I think of our friends like a Venn diagram. I’m not as worried about my and Emily’s friends or the mutual middle, but I am more concerned about his friends that I don’t know and wandering bored passersby in general. My ultimate nightmare is waking up to find a shadowed, slouching hoodie-wearing figure casually strolling around my kitchen, probably eating a sandwich.
Bother: I can’t ever be truly pleased, so I will readily acknowledge that this final annoyance is somewhat contradictory to the previous. I despise when the door is locked. Let me clarify, on the occasions where Alex’s keys have disappeared while Emily and I are holed up in our separate rooms, my boy roommate educates us on the importance of “right now” and we are reminded of the patience he doesn’t have.
From the outside, he kicks, trying to force the door to open. I’m pleased to share that the hinges were sturdy and remained steadfast. Perhaps Alex whispers Open Sesame but obviously to no avail. Then come the fists of fury, viciously pummeling the door. I understand that it’s frustrating to get locked out, but the deafening pounding makes us more irritable than hospitable. I would suggest pretending to be the pizza delivery guy or D.P. Dough’s man, and I’m sure we’d respond much faster.
My Irrational Fear:There’s not too much to fear except the frown lines that form in sheer annoyance. Luckily, my Mary Kay make-up lady keeps me wrinkle free. If anything, I’m afraid that the door will give in, sick and tired of repeated abuse. If I’m nervous now about not having a lock in use, imagine the crazy, irrational fears my mind will invent without a door.