(Not) Trapped in the Closet

Apparently you can't tell 50,000 Facebook followers about getting locked in the garage without providing the back story, so here goes: A few years ago I received a silver key ring for making the best seller list. I love this key ring, A) because of what it symbolizes and, B) shiny! However, not long after I started using it, I learned that it's quirky. You see, one of the silver balls screws off and that's how you add and remove keys. Unless you're blessed with a patented GI Joe Kung-Fu grip, the ball will occasionally loosen. The more times you toss your key ring in your bag, the looser it gets. So, about once a month I have to remember to tighten the ball or all my keys will fall off and drown in the sea of lipstick, cough drops, antique Kleenex, and free range antacids rolling around the bottom of my bag, thus defeating the entire purpose of the key ring, shiny though it may be. Last weekend my friend Joanna and I went to the opera. She found a hotel downtown for less than a hundred bucks a night, so we decided we'd stay instead of waiting in the cold for a half an hour for the opera valet or taking the late train home. (The train is fine at that time of night; the Chicago train station, however, freaks me the hell out.) (Truly I am suburban now.) (Also? The Magic Flute? With no murders, torrid affairs,...