2 a.m., home from work, strolling through the lobby, noting that the heel on my right shoe was worn down to the nail (again) as it scraped against the floor with each step, collecting the mail - crap, more crap, the phone bill, and the loveliest Thank You note from mein Buttercry on cream colored stationery - up the elevator and down the flourescent bright hall to my door. preparing for the usual fight with the unusually difficult lock, i inserted my key and commenced the customary series of jiggles required to open the damn thing. the lock has been harder to open as of late, causing me and my guests to tap our toes impatiently as i wrestle with it, so i wasn't surprised when, tonight, it took an exceptionally long time for the welcoming "click" to sound. In general, once that "click" sounds, I am able to open the door and so enter to shush Heifer, who will be nosing her way into the hallway, yowling. tonight, however, the door only opened an inch and stuck in its track with a thud. I groaned, seriously not in the freaking mood for this sort of thing now, past 2 in the morning, when all I wanted to do was wash my face, get into bed and curl up with some more of Dorothy Parker: Complete Stories to wind down from my night at the office. I jostled the door. It still didn't budge.
"Crap!" I said eloquently and continued to shove, thinking it was, perhaps, merely stuck with age. Nothing. I rocked back on my heels in despair and imagined the super downstairs having to break the whole thing down, waking my neighbors and leaving me with a dangerously drafty entrance to my apartment and a whole lot of splainin to do. I shoved again - this time, the door swung open from the inside. I gasped in shock (what the -!), only to find a bleary eyed, nightgowned Auntie Jean in the foyer with a hand on the knob. like a total scatterbrained spaz, I had completely forgotten they were coming to town today.
She was very sweet about it; laughed, told me to stop my racing heart, and gave me a hug before plodding back off to bed. For my part, I was relieved to be inside, happy to see her, still experiencing palpitations from the shock of having that stuck door open by itself, and, lastly, much shamed; not only did I wake her and the uncle up at a terrible hour, but in my utter forgetfulness, I had done nothing to prepare for their arrival. there were dishes and heaps of forks still in the sink; the ironing board was stretched out in the living room; there were piles of tourist brochures for Guatemala on the dining table. the litter hadn't been changed, either, nor had the air fresheners. Honestly, the apartment is decent enough - presentable, if a little cluttered in spots - but so much more could have been done. Shame! I quietly opened the refrigerator to deposit the remaining half of my Quizno's sub; the formerly skeletal icebox was now heaped with juice, yogurt, bread, and all sorts of good things. shame, too, that they find the refrigerator practically bare (today, they were met by eggs and Trader Joe's soy milk). Can't a person my age get their business together?
Tomorrow, I'll straighten up, bake some cupcakes and Febreze this place. That is, if i can wake up.
sigh.
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