Coming out of the closet

The walls to my bedroom are now Ripe Apricot. And at three am, the orangey paint fumes set off the fire alarm.

Did you know that could happen? I didn't.

The waa-waa of the smoke detectors lifted me out of bed. The room was the dark of closed eyelids. Thinking it may be a fire, I grabbed the door knob—it wouldn't turn. I turned around and bumped into a wall, turned again into another wall. Like I was in a small box. I found the doorknob again—still wouldn't twist. It was like every nightmare you ever had.

The light came on. I was in the closet.

Flat. Tire.

Towtruck Guy: Where’s your lug wrench?
Me: Back in my office.
TG: What’s it doing there?
Me: I needed an ice crusher.