The Garage Door Opener

I lived in my old apartment for seven years. It was a big one bedroom with hardwood floors, french windows and no air conditioning. For seven years I sucked it up during the summer months. Dripping sweat while I blowdried my hair in vain. Trying to sleep while a fan that sounded like a broken down helicopter blew hot air onto me so I wouldn't die of heat stroke during the night. Then I got the job writing for the show. I thought, finally. I had earned an air conditioner. And I can honestly say there was nothing like the moment the Sears man finished the installation, hit the remote and I felt that first blast of cold air. I had arrived. I had!

So why stop there? I thought. Sears has garage door openers and men that install those, too. I got home late every night-- anywhere from 8pm to 1 or 2 in the morning. I always dreaded getting out of the car in the dark and being that my garage was in the middle of the alley, I was always looking around for anyone who could be lurking there as I unlocked the door. In the day, I had to dodge the traffic from the car dealership off of the alley and put up with the angry honks of people who used the alley as a shortcut instead of commuting down La Brea. And when it rained? Well, that was a treat, too. My garage door opener? It spoiled me. It was amazing how much better one little contraption could make your life. And I had not one, but two little contraptions now.

So why stop there? I thought. Why not move entirely? To a bigger place. With an office. So I did. It was just down the street. It was perfect. There was only one problem. There was no garage door opener for the garage. And mine was brand new. I liked it. I didn't want to let it go. So I knocked on the door of my neighbor's apartment on moving day. My landlord told me he was getting the garage. I wanted to tell him I was taking the garage door opener out. That I needed it for my new place. After all, I bought it. It was mine. I'm sure he would do the same thing if he was in my position. My neighbor? He was a very nice man. We always said "hello" in the hall. I knew he would understand. But when he opened the door, something was different. He was missing a leg. My neighbor only had one leg! He had to have a prosthetic, I thought. Because I would have noticed that he was missing a leg before then. I didn't know what to do. What to say. How could I take the garage door opener away from a man without a leg? So when he looked at me expectantly, wondering what I wanted, I told him I was moving. And that I wanted to say goodbye.