>While Dr. P is at work fixing people colons, she has no time for grocery shopping. For a variety of reasons, I hestitated to leave her place but since she understandbaly has no food in her apartment, I reluctantly slipped out for lunch. Although Dr. P left me her car, I decided to walk the mile or so to the shopping center up the road. It was hot, but not awful. I had a nice egg sandwich and iced tea, did some work, and then walked back home.

Everything was fine until I re-entered her development. Here is my problem with suburban developments: all the buildings look the same. Plus, there aren't identifiable streets to use as guidelines. I knew she was by the alligator pond (my terminology), so when I saw an apartment with her number on it near this body of water, I was proud that I found it quickly. Except that the key would not fit into the lock. And as I stood there wondering what was going on, a woman opened it. A woman who was not Dr. P.

"Can I help you?" she asked, surprisingly pleasantly given that I just tried to open her apartment door.

"Um, I thought this was my friend's apartment, but I guess I'm lost," I stammered, thanking my lucky stars that she didn't blow my face off with a gun or call the cops.

She asked me what building number I was looking for, which is when I realized that all the complexes had their own address. Fortunately, I wrote Dr. P's on a slip of paper. It turns out I was five buildings up the alligator pond. Ooops.

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