I’m the person that walks away when I’m super mad, and I’d usually hole up in the bedroom or slam the kitchen door. But when we moved into our loft in the Village (did you ever visit us there?), we had NO DOORS! It was a really tough adjustment. I’d stomp off, find a door to step through and slam, and I’d find myself stuck in my own closet. Or the bathroom. Or out in the hallway. So I learned to find other ways to take a time out (flop on the couch, for one). But occasionally, I’d still be happy in my closet. It was huge (especially for New York), and my jewelry always got sorted by the end of my self-imposed exile.