As I awoke from my bed, anxious thoughts and feelings of the day I was about to encounter swarmed throughout my untested mind. I had been working for years on my repertoire as an actress, dancer, and singer and today was my big day. I was to finally make use of all my training and set out on my first audition. I was trying out for a great part in a Broadway show: a beautiful damsel in distress living in a household full of strangers. I had dreamed for nineteen year of being a star.
             I pushed my anxiousness aside and leaped out of bed, showered, and put on this new pair of stretch low-waist warn denim jeans with a black peasant blouse. I topped off my new outfit with real snakeskin boots. I felt trendy, ready to hit the active life of New York City. The idea of a well-balanced breakfast crossed my mind, but I didn't want to risk my belly hanging noticeably over my stylish bearing-waist jeans. A final approval from my full-length mirror energized me and was out the door in a flash. In fact, as I found later, I left so fast that I left my door wide open.
             It was 9:15; I would have to hurry if I was to make the 9:30 subway. Just as the automatic train doors closed, I was gripped with panic when I realized that I had forgotten the sheet music and script. Oh what to do, what to do. Since the next stop was just a block away and since the audition wasn't until noon, I decided that a hasty walk home from there would retrieve the forgotten essentials.
             Walking into my dilapidated apartment building, I reminded myself that I am a struggling actress and we all make sacrifices for our craft. The stairway smelled of cat urine and old tuna. The aroma grew stronger as I approached my room. I guess it was the earlier excitement of the morning, but my door was left wide open. An apparent message to the cities stray cats to come inside for a free meal followed and obligatory markings as each male out did the next. The stench...