Life's foibles

The main door to our building is somewhat capricious with us. Sometimes our keys work flawlessly and it swings open, easy as pie. Sometimes, it just doesn't fancy opening, and no amount of key-twisting, door-kicking, ranting or raving can persuade it otherwise. In any given instance, we never know whether the door will open or not, until the actual moment when we stick our key in (often to no avail).

As you can imagine, this has added an element of mystery and unpredictability to our lives.

For a while now, we have been trying to identify a pattern in the seemingly arbitrary behaviour of The Door. Week days? Rainy days? Days we're wearing red?

"I got it!!" Azdadoobie suddenly exclaimed the other day. Ilajna and I turned to stare at her expectantly, waiting to hear what she had 'got'. Lately, Azdadoobie has been pontificating, ruminating, cogitating and cerebrating on several different subjects, including:
- The Door
- The source of a random tapping sounds we can sometimes hear on weekend mornings
- The general geography of the apartment and how it fits in with the other buildings on the block ("Hmm, there's a gap outside my window but its not the street," she mused the other day).

So she could have been exclaiming about pretty much anything. But as it turned out, this time she was talking about The Door.
"I've finally identified the pattern," she continued. "It depends on whether or not you need to pee. Most times, The Door is fine. Except when you need to rush up urgently for the restroom. Then it won't open."

She glanced around at us expectantly. "Hmm," I nodded sagely. "That's good. Now it can be the official test when I come home, for whether or not I need to pee."