I have this thing about doors that are slightly ajar, that is those that happen to be open just a crack. For some reason it drives me absolutely crazy. I cannot stand it, especially when for example I can hear a door upstairs which is slightly ajar and swinging back and forth. An innocent draft causes an unpredictably rhythmical clicking sound as the breeze tries to close the door but cannot close it completely. Click, click, and (wait exactly 4.7 seconds) click. When I was a small boy and went to bed, I would call my mother about ten times to come back and make sure that my bedroom door was completely closed, until it clicked. "Mommy, did it click shut?" When I became too old to be acting so childishly, I would get out of my bed myself ten times before I slept. I would grope my way in the pitch-black darkness and feel where the doorknob was. I gave the knob a quick jolt back and forth, rattling the door to insure closure and completeness. No crack. This is order to check and double check and triple check (plus seven or more additional checks) to make absolutely definitely sure the door was really closed without the slightest possible doubt. You can never know with absolute one hundred percent certainty now that the crack is gone, can you? This obsession and/or phobia and/or psychoses about cracks have extended themselves later into my adult life. It now includes any other items that might happen to express some kind of crack or slit or other thin opening that allows lightness or darkness to show through. Life is not that complicated after all. Life is full of cracks and that is the nature of things. When you walk on the sidewalk be very careful. Step on a crack and you break your mother's back. A desire for perfection and absolute certainty makes life less perfect and more complicated than it should be. Let's not get too cracked about cracks now, okay?