The title is quite literal. I am not talking about life phases, memories, or any other figurative parallel to passageways.

No. I mean doors. Solid oak. Hollow-core. Steel.

I am a regular multitasker; I am almost constantly juggling multiple thoughts and projects at once. The problem is that I am not very good at it, and something usually suffers. On the face, I suppose that I appear empty-headed at times (like when I put the bleach in the refrigerator and the milk on top of the washing machine), but the reverse is true: head too full ... cannot ... process ... anything ... else…

Always, it is the more menial of the tasks that suffer.

When I lived in a college dormitory, one of the girls down the hall gave me such a hard time because she'd always walk by my door and see my key hanging out of the lock. I was inside and already lost in something else. She always threatened that one of these times she'd just take the key, and then I'd learn my lesson…but she never did, so I never did. I blame her—LeeAnne was her name.

I know this particular failing of mine, and I have spent many years honing my skills as a process-driven person instead of relying on memory (which is usually compromised when my thoughts wander). Once you have a process down, a person goes into autopilot. There is actually some science to this involving the basal ganglia functionality in the human brain, but I doubt you come here for brain trivia.

Ever get to work and not remember the commute? Same idea. Follow the same sequence of steps repeatedly for various tasks, and you'll hit them every single time (even if you don't give it conscious thought). This mostly works, except that conscious thought helps with some of the finer details (ahem...bleach versus milk). For a simple process like locking doors, it's pretty successful.

Unfortunately, I do not find myself leaving by the front door all that often. I park in the attached garage and enter the house from there. I do not have a committed process for exiting the front door. Additionally, when I leave by the front door to go for a run or an evening walk (the common reasons I use the front door), I am usually leaving Nick at home to watch the fort (and whatever is on ESPN). All I really need to remember to do is turn the knob before pulling the door open, and I've got that process covered. Now.

Tonight went against all of my usuallys. Nick was fishing with friends at my dad's pond. My cousin stopped over on her way home from work. After deciding that the weather radar looked too ominous for a short walk, we decided to get subs for dinner. She was driving, so we left through the front door. I remember thinking that I needed to grab my house keys (she was also paying, so I didn't need my purse). I remember that thought, but I left the house without my keys and without locking up. We were back within 10 minutes. Approaching the door, I mumbled in shame as I realized, "I didn't lock the door."

I got over it soon enough. We had subs to eat, and that was just another process that I had to execute (one that I knew a lot better than locking the doors)!

However, as my cousin headed to the door hours later to leave, her forehead creased as she tried in vain to open the door. I peaked over to make sure she was turning the knob and noticed the deadbolt was locked. She became still and looked at me like I was the most empty-headed person in the world (see above). "Let me get this straight. So you remember to lock the door once we're home, but not when we're gone!?"

Peeved, I huffed, "Well, duh. If the bad guys are going to get in, I'd rather they do it while I was gone instead of while I was here." That stopped her.

"Oh. Well, that makes sense." She shrugged and left.

I didn't dare tell her that I have a better process for closing the door from the inside than for closing the door from the outside. That just sounds crazy…and a little empty-headed.