Saturday came, not with a whimper, but with a roar.

My clients may call me when they have an emergency. While some hesitate, others seem to call before the emergency begins, or like last night, before the emergency could even start.

I didn't manage to get back to sleep, which is fortunate, because they called me two more times.

Once to make sure the alarm really was mundane, and the second to thank me and that it did go away once they were done with the cleaning process.

There was enough time between each call to get back to sleep for a normal person. In theory, that would have included me, but I was about to do something I wasn't sure could even work.

I told them, when you clean the laser, you need to press the lockout button on the computer and on the access panel; otherwise, the computer will complain about movement within the device.

The alarm is to tell you not to kill your co-worker by starting the machine, not that the laser would actually move: to open the door, the lockout box needs to be engaged, and that cuts the power to both the motors and the laser.

But you still have to keep the computer on, as it can report on where fragments are located better than the naked eye. Provided you enter the clean-up mode and lock out the laser!

My phone number is on the device itself, and people think it's an emergency maintenance company, which isn't far from the truth, but I am more like the maintenance guy. I don't have a night backup. It's just me, my cell phone, and my spanners.

The worst is that I was now up, ready to work on dismantling one of my portals, and I even had the energy to do it.

There was only one problem: if I worked, I would wake Mrs. Paterson up and ruin not one, but two nights of sleep. That's something I am not ready to do to an elderly widow.

I did prepare three sandwiches, even though I hoped not to need the third one. Better to have three and eat two than to lack one and stay hungry.

I also take measures of my third portal. It's the one that I feel the most confident about, as practice makes perfect.

I had put the tuner on my original prototype, so this third portal was now hardwired to a specific frequency. This would restrict point-to-point travel and force me to go back to my lab. This suited me fine.

I took notes on where to cut, where to place connectors to bridge each cut, and where to install hinges so it could fold. In short, I made a step-by-step plan to make it portable, like a furniture manual but with badly written words instead of those well-made, wordless Ikea instructions.

I also took an inventory of my supplies. Did I have all the screws, hinges, and connectors? Of course I did. I made the plan based on what I actually had on hand, not on unicorns and rainbows.

When I was almost done, I heard Mrs. Paterson flush the toilet. That was all I needed to start my noisy endeavor.

My neighbor and I have an understanding. We both wake up at once. Sure, if I hear her at midnight using the restroom, I then assume she will get back to sleep. But if it's at 6:34, like this morning, she can't be mad I made noise on a Saturday morning. Sometimes, it's her waking me up. Granted, only when I oversleep, and then I am grateful she woke me up.

My plan worked. Almost. I wrestled with a connector that didn't want to engage, but eventually, I banished it to the bottom of my bucket. Yes, that bucket. If it can avoid destruction from my spanners, I'll give it another chance. But until then, I consider it defective. It happens. I am mostly an idiot, and this connector is mostly useless. Maybe I should be more generous with it? Nah, it's just a cheap connector, not a human being. Things don't have feelings, even if I tend to assign them some.

Making a device the size of a door portable isn't that hard, as long as it doesn't weigh too much. The problem isn't making it portable. Even a fridge is portable if you have a good Sawzall. The problem is making sure it still functions properly after you put it back together. Making a tall fridge portable? Actually, that sounds like a good, fun challenge. It's mostly a compressor, an evaporator, and an insulated box. Fine, let's say a TV. Well, again, making a foldable TV might not be a huge challenge now that foldable phones are possible. Sigh. Let's just say something big that definitely breaks if you split it. It doesn't matter what. My allegory doesn't fail because I lack imagination. It fails because my imagination is too active at finding solutions. In short, I need to make sure my portable portal can still sync with my home portal once unfolded in the right port. Can I stop saying port? Portal, portable. Ok, it's out of my port, I mean, system.

It takes me about 57 minutes to make it portable. It takes approximately 12 minutes and 30 seconds more to reassemble it. I start it, and it fails. Darn. What did I do wrong? I unfolded the frame. All the connectors are hooked. I use a multimeter to test continuity, and all is fine. I inspect all the parts to make sure I didn't break any. The frequency circuit? Check. The capacitor circuit? Check. The frame and its connection to the rest? Check. Oh, it's not plugged in the wall. Seconds after I plugged it in, the portal lit up and became a viewscreen to my bedroom, where I decided to keep the primary. I get to my bedroom and, only in it, realize that I didn't get dressed yet.

I get dressed, then carefully fold my portable portal and carry it, part by part, to my car. Portable Portal. I like that litote; maybe it's why I say it so often.

The drive is uneventful. Just nine police cars stopping crazy motorists and three accidents blocking a lane. All in all, about an hour of traffic, so I made it in a little over seventeen hours, counting the stops to refuel and eat. I ate a late lunch in Syracuse and an even later supper a little past Cleveland.

The temporary apartment is in a destitute part of town, but it's rather nice, despite the walls being stained by decades of tobacco smoke from a tenant who reportedly smoked sixteen packs a day until lung cancer freed up the lease. There is a working fridge that saw better days. I put my third sandwich in it, as I might need to work in the place tomorrow.

Shoot. My car is in Indianapolis now. I thought about just portaling home and leaving my clothes here for the show, but I need the car this week.

Sigh. I'll need that third sandwich and perhaps a fourth. Shoot. Why didn't I think of that? Wait, I did think of that. It's in my notebook... which is at home. I use my notebooks to free my memory of information I don't need in the present time. But now, I don't have access to my notebook.

Ok, so I assemble my portal, plug it in, and soon enough, I can see into my darkened bedroom... from Indianapolis! The only light comes from my new apartment through the portal and from my alarm clock. Fortunately, I didn't tune out my main portal, or I would be really stuck.

I undress and get into my bedroom. That was much easier than getting to my new temporary apartment. Certainly less traffic.

I search in the dark until I realize that I can turn on the light, and once done, I quickly find the right notebook.

"Leave the car in Indianapolis, as it will be needed to get to the show and to bring back the portal. Use Uber for the appointment. It's cheaper than the gas for driving back home and back to Indianapolis."

I knew I had a good idea. And that solves my sandwich supply. My food is at home, and I can portal home anytime I want.

Exhausted, I was about to get back to my new apartment and its questionable smoke aroma, but I remembered that I am in my own apartment too and that smells don't travel via the portal. Thank God!

I brush my teeth, and I search my apartment for my cell phone so I can check my emails one last time and charge it for the night. It's not in the kitchen, not in the lab, and not in my bedroom. Odd. I would call it from my landline, except for the fact that people, me included, don't have landlines anymore. I go to my desktop and use the Find My Phone option... only to find it in Indianapolis. Right, I drove with it on the way to the other apartment and can't bring it back using the portal.

At least I have a charger in Indiana, so I fire up my portal again, cross over, check my emails, plug it in, plug my laptop in, and cross back over so I can turn off the portal once more. Sleep finds me before I even realize I've closed my eyes.

I wake up and search for my cell phone, but this time, I don't need to use Find My Phone; I remember. I do want to use my cell phone to get news while eating breakfast, but my breakfast and both my phone and my laptop are in another state.

I still check my emails before eating, and I end up moving back and forth between both apartments as I get my morning routine going. Because of this, I can't even think about getting dressed. I also discovered that if I have a crumb on my face, the portal blocks me until I remove it.

I didn't bring my main notebook with me, and I thought I could take a picture from my phone until I simply balanced my notebook on the portal. I could take a picture from my phone in Indiana of the notebook opened in Boston. I could easily turn the pages across the gateway, but my phone and my notebook wouldn't be in the same room until I actually take my phone on the long way home.

Sadly, I had not thought of a solution for my cell phone. In the end, I found my previous phone, which still worked, and put it on charge. I could get a prepaid SIM card and forward my calls when not in Boston. My old accounts and apps were still on it anyway.

Once I was satisfied with my morning routine, I turned off the portal again, this time from Indiana. I made a note to design a TCP/IP-controlled switch for my main portal so I can turn it on and off remotely and also select the right gate.

I look around me. If, somehow, Cassie wants to spend time with me, there is no way I can bring her here. I will need a complete makeover for an apartment I am only renting for 2 weeks.

I grab my notebook and survey the apartment so I know what to buy. I have all the supplies in my apartment, and I can see it from my new living room, but I can't bring anything across with me.

I don't have a proper measuring tape, but I find a small one from a trade show. It's impractical, but it fits in my belt pouch with the other tools.

I get to my bedroom, and from it, to my lab. I need to search a little, but I soon find the itty-bitty tape measure, and I try it. It's long enough to make measurements in my temporary apartment, 10 feet, but it's thin and impractical. It will have to do.

I get to my portal and put the tape in the palm of my hand and then cover it with my other hand. I try to make it as tight as possible. I slowly try to cross, as I don't want to try or hurt myself if the portal blocks me. To my surprise, I can cross over.

This opens up new possibilities! I can't bring large things, as I need to fully cover them with my body, but small things like tickets, charging cables, or perhaps small tools I could! Not spanners, as they are too big and too heavy.

I even try putting my phone next to my chest and covering it with my arms. After a few tries, my phone can move through the portal. Another problem solved.

I don't actually fully cross over. I only test the principle, but it's a success. My old cellphone will be able to rest some more. Good night, sweet prince. You served me well for over a year, so enjoy your retirement.

I quickly make a map of my temporary apartment, note down the furniture's new location, and figure out what I need to buy to covertly hide my portal.

I also make my checklist of what to buy, and soon enough, it's time to get dressed to shop.

I find everything at the nearby Home Depot. The employees are nice, but I mostly can find my way around. My checklist was super useful, as I know I have sponges to wash the walls, but back in Boston, not in Indiana. Sure, I could press them against my chest, but it's still limited. And do I want to bring back dirty, tobacco-filled sponges? Either via the portal against my skin or, worse, in the car, where they will stink it up? No, thanks. It's wasteful, but they will only be used once.

My car is big enough to carry everything, and I like that I can open the back window to let my 2x4 studs out. I don't forget to put on the red scarf I keep for that reason. I fail to see how it really helps, but I think it's the law.

I quickly make it home and put the purchases in the right rooms.

As I cleaned, I thought about hysteresis. It's a term from college that took me ages to understand. Basically, it's when the previous state affects the current one. Like a thermostat, it doesn't switch exactly at the target temperature but depends on whether it's been heating or cooling.

It's the same with me. If I've just been shopping, I'm dressed. If I've just come through the portal, I'm naked. I don't mind either way, but it's funny how much effort it takes to switch. How comfortable I am either way now. I get used to seeing myself naked.

The sooner I am done in Indiana, the sooner I can go home. There is nothing for me in this city until Cassie arrives for her show.

Still, I need to spend the afternoon cleaning the apartment. After cleaning with TSP, the walls still smelled faintly of cigarettes, so I wiped them down one more time. I rearranged the furniture so the sofa faced the portal, in case I needed to demonstrate it. Then I built a simple wooden frame to cover it when I wasn't using it. It looked like a decorative screen, though it was mostly plywood, with a black curtain in the middle. I set a small clearance TV from Walmart on top of the TV stand I'd found. This completed the look.

Would Cassie even visit? Not likely. I would most likely hang out with her, but surrounded by her entourage, by her security. Venturing with me outside the concert venue wasn't logical. It wasn't sensible. And yet, love is neither of those things, so I still put in the effort in case this is when she wanted to be alone with me. In case this was when the timing was right.

Because time is a fickle mistress. You can wait for the right time, or you can work hard to make a particular moment of your choosing the appropriate time.

Let's just hope that if it's not this time, it's the next one. You can only calibrate your timing so much, even if, well, I still have plenty of notebooks.