Tucking my keys into my bra, I thought of how preparation for a walk to shul on Shabbat is similar to preparation for a night of clubbing - the way it is preferable to take your keys and leave the rest of your purse behind, the way a pair of black hooker boots completes either outfit. “You can’t keep straddling the fence,” Eitan told me, “You need to make a choice.” But for a long time I straddled worlds and days of the week: Thursday night - clubbing. Friday night - Shabbat dinner. Saturday – Shabbat services. Saturday night- dancing again. Sunday morning – Torah study. The two sides worked in unison like bike pedals, propelling me through college. Only, I was travelling along a fault line which widened after graduation to a gorge I could no longer bridge with my body. So I chose the simpler side. But today, as I lock the door and tuck my keys into my bra I wonder what could have been if I’d swung my black-booted legs to the other side.