Let me know if you enjoy. Or submit requests for a next chapter.
Coming home, Part I: Keys, doors and mail
Arriving at the front door of our building from a day of work I immediately dug into my back left pocket for the house keys. Sometimes, if I’m planning ahead, I will already have the keys in my hand upon arrival at our bright blue front door. Today was not one of those days.
Fortunately, after just seconds of searching, I found the keys to my kingdom, and extricated them from the back pocket of my blue jeans. There’s only about four keys on the ring, so in no time at all, I had deftly inserted the correct one into the lock.
Closing the door behind me, I looked at the mailbox. It had been without an inner door for over a week. I almost remarked mentally on the need, as the ranking male in the household, to repair the hinges that had caused the door to fall off, but swiftly decided against thinking that particular thought. Why put off until tomorrow something you put off even considering until tomorrow?
And anyway, no mail had come in through the slot this particular Monday. Thus the floor was free from postal detritus.
The feeling this engendered was not so much relief as a cultivated indifference: no mail meant no person, agency, or organization trying to contact me. Huh. This was not a big deal.
Nor was it unusual. In fact many days are no-mail days in my household. I tried not to let the lack of mailing interest bother me, and succeeded. Besides, often mail is in French or Dutch, and thus extremely challenging, irrelevant, incomprehensible, or some combination of the three.
Springing up the steps one at a time I bounded to our interior apartment door at the pinnacle of our maison de maitre, and was able to unlock it even faster than I had unlocked the downstairs building door. This was because I had kept my keys in my hand for the whole trip up the stairs. I complimented myself for this clever time-saving piece of foresight, and blushed shyly in response.
Throwing the door wide I crossed the threshold and put my bag down. I realize now that I forgot to mention I had taken my jacket off and hung it on the peg outside the front door, just after I had unlocked the door, yet before I stepped inside. However, this – I assure you – did in fact happen. It must have happened – because when I stepped inside I was no longer wearing a jacket, yet when I unlocked the door, I most certainly was.
Coming home, Part II – Inside, at long last
I strode purposefully the six short feet to the desk on which my laptop frequently rests. I switched it on. The laptop, I mean.
I did this because I like to listen to music when I’m at home. When my wife is home, we listen to music that both of us like. That means it must be heavily melodic with a minimum of rapping. So today, as most days, I seized the opportunity to rock out to some loud tuneless rap music.
Or rather I would, once my computer had booted up.
In the meantime, I crossed the floor to the kitchen zone, and opened the fridge. By the way, I had also taken my shoes off, though I’m not exactly sure when. But I definitely wasn’t wearing them by this point.
Coming home, Part III – A thrilling conclusion
The fridge was stocked full of food. We eat pretty healthy, and frequently at home, thus we keep alot of food in our fridge. Perishables and stuff. Alot of vegetables, and also alot of jars of condiments. There are at least three different jars of jam in our fridge right now. Raspberry. And of course, some cheese.
A few bottles of delicious Belgian beer were strategically positioned throughout the fridge, affording me the opportunity to play a ‘Where’s Waldo’-esque game of Beerspotter. Mmmm, Duvel. Oh look, it’s a Maredsous!…
My eyes glanced over a bottle of store-brand lemon soda in the door. Thus, I was presented with a quandary: is it time for a beer? Or not? Perhaps a glass of store-brand lemon soda would slake my mild thirst just as ably as a beer? Although, beer is so delicious…
I looked up over the fridge door and spotted our stainless steel sink: maybe a glass of water: calorie free, and straight from the tap, is what this situation calls for. Yes! That would do, that would do just fine. I could always have a beer later, I reminded myself.
And I knew, in my heart of hearts, that I would.
Taking my cool glass of cool water, I walked the short distance back to my computer and sat down. In the chair. My computer was on, the beverage (glass of tapwater) was in my hand, I wasn’t wearing shoes or a jacket, and iTunes was loading.
I was home.