I wake up the next morning. The telly is on. Matt Lauer and Anne Curry are updating me on what happened while I slept. Rather depressing. I’d rather watch a crime drama.
Around 7.30 am I get off the couch, brush my teeth and wander into the kitchen to make coffee. Normally I wander around the apartment and hang up clothes, clear out my wallet or whatever little 10 minute task lingers as the coffee percolates. But today I lean against the wall and stare out the window. Below me are three bathtubs filled with dirt, with a bunch of plants waiting to be potted. Hhhmm. The super has his own garden out there.
When the coffee is brewed I pour it and some low-fat cream into a mug and sit back down on the couch. I grab my phone and see that I missed a text. As I start typing in my bb password, my fingers don't hit the tiny keys like they did yesterday - and I remember I chewed my nails off.
Text from Town and Country: It was nice to see you and have you here.
What is the appropriate response to this? Thanks, nice to be seen?
Oh Durga, you are a wise and confident warrior woman, can you tell me WHY this is the man I have decided to be so attracted to him that I lose control of my life when it comes to him. From a totally shallow point of view – he is not gorgeous, hot, or fit – I mean yes, I find him sexy – but it is not like he is the desi George Clooney. Maybe it is his accent and his brain and his disposition that sends me over the deep end of attraction – but OMG – why, why, why, why --- do I want Punjus who don’t want me?