Ass in Headlights

So, I'm situated in yet another basement apartment with trickling faucets and not enough floppy chairs.
My bedside table was a microwave for about a week.
But I don't use it for that anymore.
Now I use it as a microwave.
I like it here.
I can walk to da mall.
Which is handy if I feel like wishing that I was somewhere else.
Or if I need coffee.
Someone who lived here formerly left a set of golf clubs.
Left-handed golf clubs.
It's no train set. But it'll do.
To get to my apartment, one has to walk over a slight embankment.
The car is parked at the top of it.
Whenever I leave so as to drive somewhere, I hit the unlock button on the obnoxious keychain thing, which flashes the car's lights.
In my eyes.
It'll be months before I break this habit.