Hello denizens of the blogosphere. Everyone seems to be updating their blogs these days, I thought…”hell, why not.” So once again, I have decided to follow the bandwagon – despicable, I know – but really, I think it’s gonna be okay.
I’m facing the monitor, with the keyboard beneath my fingers. The monitor is rested on a computer table contraption, which is built on wheels – presumably made for highly energetic people who have laptops and enjoy changing their working environment on a regular basis. Directly to my right is a wooden desk with four skinny wooden legs that are shaped somewhat like mine. Both the computer table and the wooden desk are positioned within a small indent in the wall, and they fit marvellously. The surface of the wooden desk is piled with all kinds of things, a selection of these objects are presented below:
- 1 Canadian passport – (duration spent on the desk) since January 14th
- 2 empty water bottles – about two and half weeks
- 1 canister of Redoxin – on and off for about a month
- 1 ‘Imperial Earth’ by Arthur C. Clarke – arrived the desk two days ago and has not experienced any movement.
To the right of the wooden desk is a closet. It has a white wooden door, and a minute stainless steel door knob, or rather knubbin – whose function is still unknown to me (the knob being so small, and the door so tightly wedged in that opening it is simply not an option.) Perhaps the door knob is there for aesthetic reasons. To the immediate right of the closet is a wall. At a ninety-degree angle to the closet is another white wooden door that leads to the kitchen-toilet-main entrance. This white wooden door, also presents a significant philosophical problem in that it serves no function. It’s door-like existence is meaningless.
On this door, there is a door knob. The door knob is both functionally and aesthetically pleasing – it is made of a metallic substance and shaped like an “L”, and unlike the knubbin it performs its designated function perfectly. That is, until one decides to close said white wooden door. For example – if one were to close the door by gently guiding it towards the doorframe, one would find, within a few moments, the white wooden door opening itself again. Another example – if one were to slam the door in rage or out of sheer annoyance at the door, one would witness the white wooden door ‘bouncing’ off the doorframe and returning to its natural opened position. The reason is because the device that is usually installed in the doorframe – the one that the knob on the door is designed to lock into on closing – is not present. It is AWOL. Thus, the door serves no function except to annoy its user.
Through the doorway one is met by the kitchen. The kitchen is about one and half metres wide and consists of a mini-fridge, a microwave, a sink, and a hot-plate stove (whose predecessor caused the first fire in the one-hundred year history of this building block.) Immediately to the right of the kitchen is the toilet, and immediately to the left of the kitchen is another white wooden door that serves as the entrance to this apartment. Through this door is the hallway of the fifth floor of number 105 Hallam Street.
Next time, I will describe how to get from the hallway to the elevator.