Before the sun rises on Tuesday I get up, brush my teeth and brew coffee. For years, my architectural education had me believing I was a night person. But when I began working I was also able to get up at pre-dawn hours (with the assistance of coffee, of course). I don’t know if it’s possible to be both a night and morning person. But I do know that I equally like the inky darkness of early morning and the jet black of night --- and if I can get them sprinkled with stars and guarded by the light of the moon, even better yet. And stars, they are something I took for granted in my Minneapolis life.
Growing up, the morning routine was one of my favorite times of the day. Mom would come upstairs to shower and begin by switching on the bathroom light. The action would run a white beam under the sliver of space between the carpet and the bottom of my closed bedroom door. I would hear the bathroom door close. A few minutes later the sound of running water would play against my ears. I would close my eyes and smile. For seven minutes I would savor the peace of morning.
As the coffee slowly percolates into the pot I stare out the kitchen window, across the shaft way and into my neighbor’s apartment. It’s been over a day since I texted Town and Country. Nothing but silence between us. And I'm mad that the power between us shifted again. The odd thing is, for the first time since moving to New York, I wasn’t looking for anything resembling a relationship with Town and Country, or any Manhattan man for that matter. I had been dating like I was training for a marathon that the joy of motion had long since been lost on me. I was beginning to feel like I wanted to date, for fun not keeps. Scandalous speak for a woman my age, but who cares what society thinks. Is society going to pay my rent when the landlord comes knocking? Didn't think so.
And it is times like this I wish I was one of those crazy people for whom the stalker laws were created. I would totally get on the train, go to Town and Country’s house, bang on the door (waking his hoity toity neighbors) and ask why he acts like an ass. Does he think it's nice to ignore people? I certainly don’t. I also don't think he's worth a $2 Metro Card ride. So why aren’t I deleting his number from my phone?