I am a man of stealth. Of mystery. It is how I live my life.

In Australia, this is commonplace – enforced upon its residents by tricks of construction. And that is where my problem lies. As a door swings shut, it is decelerated by my hand just as the knob is turned. Once the door will go no further, the knob is eased back into its initial position. It is a position the door knob knows well. A position it is comfortable with.

In Australia, however, this is not the case. Door knobs here are filled with an eerie confidence. They care not in which position they are left.

You see the problem.

I fear Australia will instill a laziness to my stealth. A laziness that will be the death of me.