Interesting...

The phone call settles my thoughts and after I tap the "end call" button, my heart slowly reverts back to it's original pace. The fog is gone now. Like a curtain revealing the next act in a play, the lifted fog shows quite clearly my destination. Apartment complex #4. I call it #4 because it is the forth one I've lived in since I moved down here to southern California about ten years ago from up north. It almost feels like the higher number of apartment complex numbers I live in, the lower my living standard get.

Some people discribe the area #4 i'm in as the "anus" of Long Beach (Honest, someone told me that!) and that nickname gets more apparent everyday when I aproach it after work, after a date, or after a couple of drinks with friends. I let a sigh out everytime I walk my girlfriend the two blocks (or more some nights) since parking is horrendous after 8pm. The sigh gets even louder once we enter the tiny space to see dirty clothes on the floor and bare feet greet us after opening the door. My roommate has converted nearly 75% of the apartment into his own personal space and after two years, I developed a problem about it. His office space/ entertainment area/ dining room and laundry basket is something a grown man of 32 doesn't want to see when he would like to bring company or family over.

So off to the bedroom, my own personal fortress of solitude. Sometimes it's not bad but eating on my bed and waking up with crumbs everywhere you don't want them to be, after awhile gets annoying.

At the front gate, I am confronted with the same issue I get myself into every time I come "home". All the stuff I carry from my car to "home" are always held in the hand on the side where the coresponding pocket contains the keys. Never fails. I angrly manuever bag handels or books or grocery bags to eitherthe floor or the other hand to get my keys while reminding myself that the next time I have thingsto bring "home" to figure out the key situation first. Yet I always forget once I open that gate and start up those stairs. I need post-it's.


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