As I made the turn at the top of the first flight of stairs, it took all my might not to let out a giant scream. Not being the first or the last time, I got my index finger caught in one of the spokes on the front tire. I managed to keep the bike up on my shoulder, in spite of the pain, and successfully made the narrow turn. It was a great relief when I finally reached the landing on the third floor and placed the bike back down on the floor.
While pulling the door key out of my front pocket, I could hear my cats purring behind the door, waiting for me. I currently have three cats, of varying ages and sizes, all of which I picked up from a local rescue. They require very little care and they do offer me company. I never considered myself much of a cat person, as if there were some stereotype, but any other animal just doesn’t seem to fit in with my lifestyle.
As I crossed the doorway into my small apartment, the usual damp, musty odor hit me all at once. It was mixed with the smell of metal and steam coming from the old-fashioned heater against the wall. On many a cold night, while I was thankful to have heat, the constant knocks and banging did their best to keep me awake. It sounded as if there were somebody inside banging on the pipes with a hammer. I rested my bike against the wall and plopped down on the sofa to listen to some music.
To be continued…