For Awhile, I Didn’t Know Where I Lived

I have a tendency of walking with my head down. I pride myself on being observant and having such a good sense of direction when in reality that isn’t true at all. I forget half the places I’ve been to and the other half I have no clue how I got there. If you were to tell me directions by giving me landmarks to signify when I need to turn, you’re wasting your time. My heads down ninety percent of the time I don’t know any landmarks. But if you tell me it’s on the sidewalk where someone drew a penis in the concrete I’ll know exactly where you’re talking about. I know the sidewalks better than I know the streets. I wish I could say the same about my apartment.

The only reason why I know which one is actually my apartment now, is because a neighbor of ours gave us his doormat since he was moving out. I figured we needed some more decor to our apartment rather than just a couch with two folding chairs used as foot rest. HIs doormat was exactly what we needed to spice up the place.

Of course we took it willingly, I mean he said was getting rid of it anyway, if we didn’t take it it was going straight to the trash. I didn’t realize how much I needed that mat. That mat has made all the difference in the world for me when I’m trying to find my way home. At least now, since I walk with my head down, I can at least look for the Jameson mat he left us to know I’m home. I was wicked bad at finding my way home before.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve walked into my neighbors apartment two doors down from me thinking it was mine. Yes, I walked in there taking off my backpack and all. I always found myself somehow turning their knob successfully opening their door each time. Inevitably to be greeted by someone sitting at their counter in complete dismay at seeing a complete stranger walk through their front door. I quickly then apologize and rush out of their apartment before they have a chance to follow me out and find out where I lived.

Other times I’d find myself walking too far past my apartment and wind up at my neighbors door on the other side of me. They do a far more diligent job of locking their door, and after thirty seconds of fiddling with my keys in their lock I finally look up at the door and realize it actually isn’t my apartment. I only hope they’re not watching me through the peephole in the door, wondering what they hell I’m doing.

The best thing that has ever happened to me and this apartment building was us getting that door mat. I now know where I live and know that all I have to do when I come home late at night is find our door mat. I haven’t walked into the wrong apartment or tried the wrong door since. I need to send our old neighbor a thank you card for this door mat, he’s saved me from so many awkward situations I found myself stuck in.

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