"Make it idiot proof and someone will make a better idiot."

As you know, my balcony & I are having a difficult relationship right now. Specifically, my balcony door and I. It freezes shut and then I can't get any fresh air while I'm smoking....I know, an oxymoron, right? Fresh air & smoking? Yes. I don't like my apartment smelling like cigarette smoke, so I open my balcony door to air it out. Plus, I'd like to have another escape route in case the hallway catches on fire. I worry a lot, can you tell? Or, I'm like the boy scouts-- always be prepared! Isn't that their motto?

So today, after 3 days of filling my apartment with cigarette smoke, I was bound & determined to get the door open and shovel my balcony (in the hopes that it wouldn't freeze shut if the snow is all gone, right? I know, I know. I'm an idiot. But I like to delude myself.). I ran into Tim, our maintenance man, while walking to my building with my shovel. He thought I was there to help him. HA! He was on his way to unplug a toilet. Not my favorite chore. In fact, I avoid that at all costs at work. I'll just put up a sign that says "Out of Order", which I have to do just about every Sunday. Women are disgusting, that's all I can say.

So miracle of all miracles, I was able to get my balcony door open just enough to squeeze through. Actually, at one point, I could only open it about 6 inches and thought to myself, "I'm not that small!" so I just kept trying and finally it budged. I got outside with my tiny little shovel (Thanks, Dad!) and started shoveling. Then I thought, "What if I can't get back in?" So I tried the door. Guess what? It wouldn't. freaking. budge. Talk about panic. So I kept trying and trying and got it moved, but then it fell off its tracks. That's right. Picture me, 3 floors up, stuck outside on my balcony, with only a little shovel in my hands and a door off its rocker. Panic, panic, panic. Tim had finished his plugged toilet (false alarm) and was about a block away when I hollered "TIIIIIIIMMMMMM!" He immediately came to my rescue. Thank God for Tim. He at least got it working smoothly....or so I thought.

I finished shoveling, which I actually enjoy, though I'm sure those of you shoveling driveways and sidewalks would disagree at this point. And you're probably right. I'd probably be complaining and bitching about my aching back and arms by now. Thankfully, I just have a little balcony to shovel. Anyway, I finished and got back inside and thought, "This is so great! Now I can air out my apartment!" I was wrong. Oh, so wrong. Once I shut the door, it wouldn't open again. Something is seriously wrong with this door. It just hates me. Doesn't it realize that I did a good deed by getting all the snow & ice away from it? Doesn't it know how much I rely on it? Apparently it doesn't care.

Fair warning: if you come visit me in my apartment today, beware of cigarette smoke.

Maybe this is why Chica is so sick.

Damn door.