My day began like any other, except now that my boyfriend is staying with me in my tiny apartment for three months– I’m awakened by the sound of the refrigerator door opening, glass clicking and the burst of acidic air from a bottle of coke. Ah yes, just… peeking through one eye at the time… forty-five minutes before my alarm goes off – the joys of cohabitating. Don’t get me wrong, I love that he’s visiting me on the other side of the planet, but my morning side was never made of rainbow and sunshine. As far as I’m concerned, no human contact before 10 a.m. should be a well-enforced law – well, except for early morning sex. That’s great. No talking, no cuddling, just fucking, and then you roll over and go back to sleep.
Anyway, at this point I tried to salvage a little more sleep, although I already knew it was more wishful thinking than realistic. But before I could go back to the already forgotten land of dreams, I smelt the distinct odor of tobacco. Ok, I give up. Literally rolling from my bed I automatically reached for the remote to turn on the heat – morning rituals, plus cold, equals “fuck work I’m going back to bed.” And we definitely can’t have that (too often) now can we?
After some coffee, grilled cheese, getting my hair to look functionally decent, watching a few cartoons and having a smoke – I realized that almost two hours had passed and I was already (almost) late. So I grabbed a dress threw it on and ran out the door. Soon enough, after looking down, I discovered that my previously-unworn-dress was way shorter than I’d anticipated, barely reaching mid-thigh on my 5’10” legs and somehow even shorter in the back. Yup, this will definitely not work around teenagers.
While practically running the 10-minute walking distance to my destination and clutching my coat around me like a protective armor, I called my apartment phone which was picked up on the third ring with a cheery “moshi moshi.” I couldn’t help smiling at his noble attempt. “Could you bring me a pair of pants…?” I asked, dodging a co-worker’s eye contact and slipping stealthily into a nearby bathroom.
Another quiet morning has passed where, upon tumbling out of bed, I muse to myself, “what the hell was that dream?” Not that I don’t appreciate the memory of my flights and celestial fancies, but sometimes I truly have to wonder what my subconscious is up to when I delve into these otherworlds.
Sitting on the outskirts of my mind, I look around my tiny apartment and feel the closeness of everything choking me back into my safety net. That slumber that never leaves. It’s sort of like my security blanket – always there to rock me into submission.
Going into auto-pilot, my morning glides from task to task, continuously the same yet somewhat different. I can never seem to do the same exact thing twice.
Sometimes time plays tricks on me, telling me we’re cool and will roll together. But as soon as complacency sits in, I’m tossed in a whirlwind of ticks and missing beats. I can never get mad though, I know time sits still and I’m the one that flows. Still, these moments remain, almost like a reminder of my movement between these planes – forever on the move, yet remaining the same.
Occasionally, I would sit as still as possible and relish in the shifts that exist with and through me. I’m in a million different places right now – how many people know this?
So, back in my apartment, my home away from home, I try to stay with time and have friendly conversations to appease as I go through the motions.
And soon, sometimes too soon, I greet the morning that sits on the outside of my door.