Last Saturday afternoon, I was fixing some red beans and rice. I opened up a box of that Zatarains mixture and following the directions on the box, I added some smoked turkey sausage to the mix. I was preparing it to eat later for dinner.
Just as the red beans and rice was finished cooking, I heard a knock on my window. Yes, my window.
Once again, it was my new neighbor. She lives upstairs from me. Since I live on the first floor, I’ve become her goddamn doorman. She’s done this shit to me at least a dozen times.
“I’m sorry,” she says as I open the front door to the building. “I can’t figure out which key I have that opens that door.”
I said nothing. I just let her come in.
“That smells good,” she said as I noticed I’d let my apartment door open. “What you cooking?”
“Red beans and rice.”
“Sure smells good.”
“Would you like some?”
“Oh that would be. . . “
“Then why don’t you go to the store and buy some,” I said. “As it’s cooking, I can give you an education on how to open the front door. I know you’ve only lived here for three weeks, but you need to know some of the basic rules of apartment living like knowing how to open doors.”
The woman looked at me in horror. Well, no she didn’t really because I didn’t say that to her. I just let her go upstairs.
By the way, the red beans and rice with turkey sausage was quite good.
(Photo found on Google)