Musings from a Stairway

Though I'm not currently sitting in a stairway, this seems to be a good title for this blog post, because I spent a good 2 hours sitting in one earlier.
How, exactly, did I manage that?
I locked myself out of my friend's apartment.
Now, the really ironic thing is that I locked myself out of her apartment last time I visited her, too. This time, though, she was at work, and her roommate hasn't moved in yet. Her roommate also had his phone off, and he was at his parent's house.
So, while waiting for my rescuer, I had to do something. Granted, my contacts, glasses, keys, and magazines were all in the apartment.
Fortunately, I found a notebook and worked on a short story. I decided I hated the story. Happens.
But what really struck me is how often my imaginary world coincides with the real world.
In my short story, my stupid main character is a Golden Stag. She can shapeshift, and turn into another living creature whenever she wants. A locked door on the second floor wouldn't have been a problem for her. There's always a window or a crack. I have no suck luck, myself. I can't squeeze through cracks in walls, or turn into an ant or a fly or an anything.
Sarah should be happy, though. I sat down with my bobby pins and credit card and tried to break in. As I've done this before on my own lock, I'm pathetically quite experienced. I failed anyway.
I entertained myself by throwing a much-chewed ball against the wall and talking to Melody, writing out a cover letter... and wishing, that sometimes, the rules, laws of nature as it were, could change.