attempting to escape

typical morning. i wake to the sound of my cell phone ringing. its work; someone called in sick and they want me to cover. i really need the hours, but i am such a lazy shit that i rustle up a TB-worthy amount of phlegm from my lungs and practically spit it over the phone line at them. "well (i say between fits), i can definitely come in but i will need a few minutes to get up the strength to swallow my (HACK) medicine." no, no, they assure me. you stay home and rest. we'll find someone else.

A for effort!

i attempt to go back to sleep but the lack of heat, dim lines of grey seattle sunlight and the realization that i am wasting my life keep me awake. i grumble, throw back the covers (perky flower-patterned comforter left over from my more positive dorm days) and stumble out to the bathroom. the smell of my roommates' decision to adopt two cats hits me in the face. ick. the tub faucet is dripping. the toilet is half running. the sink keeps making this plunk, plunk, plunk noise because the pipe broke, and all we could think of to fix it was to put a giant mop bucket under the drain to catch the runoff. don't worry, we have to empty that disgusting orange motherfucker into the tub four times a day. sometimes the cats drink out of it too. welcome to my life.

after a successful bathroom visit in which i avoided touching anything or breathing through my nose, i walk into the icy kitchen to rummage for something to quell my slightly wine-induced morning nausea (i only had four glasses the previous night! doing well). i found my new box of raisin bran on the counter, tipped over and ripped into like a hungry pack of dogs had forced their way into the house. i managed to salvage four flakes and a raisin. i noticed a sloppily written note on the floor. 'borrowed some cereal,' it said. ah. downstairs roommate. just turned 21, going on 55. as in 55, and been drinking his whole life. whatever.

i return to my room and survey the possibilities for my day.

1. clean my room. it is a mess of clothes on the floor, clothes on my dresser, clothes on my bookshelf and clothes on clothes. and then underneath the clothes there are piles of unpaid bills. and movies to be returned. and many other things. from where i sit on my bed i can spot a broken mirror, empty cereal bowl (you better believe i dressed up those four flakes with some expired soy milk), a jam jar filled with water and one orange converse shoe.
2. along with room cleaning, there is always a need for clean laundry. i have definitely run out of clean undies. i am now on my emergency supply which includes granny panties and 'rag-time' lingerie.
3. pay bills. deposit pay checks. gather up tax forms. basically, pretend that i am a grown-up. i checked my bank statement online today and -$56.87 was not good news for me.
4. clean the litterbox... okay that's a joke. i'm not going near that fucker. let my cat-loving roommates do it.
5. go to a coffee shop and read. okay, not just any coffee shop. THE coffee shop. with THE barista. aka THE boy. yep, i have outdone myself in ridiculousness. my dating/hooking up record has been annoyingly, well, SEATTLE. there was the microsoft employee. i then moved on to the philosophy major with the moped. oh, don't forget the bartender from greenlake. for a while it was a harvard exit theater boy, who went dumpster diving with me on cold nights. trendy wendy. value village. i moved from one end of broadway to the other.

(done with the list, moving on to complaining about relationships) and now. here is my real dilemma. much bigger than what to do with a pair of incriminating undies. i want out of seattle. i love this little place with all my heart. capitol hill is like this funny little town on some silly TV show where you see the same characters in every episode (i.e.: 'slats', the gaunt junkie-looking pool player who is EVERYWHERE?). my raisin-bran stealing, cat-lovin,' beer guzzlin' roommates are amazing. but i can't be tied down. i am a restless spirit, always have been, and always will. i have dreams of moving to chicago, new york, buenos aires. somewhere! i need to be unattached. i need to get out while the goings good, you know?

so why did this barista boy have to show up in my life, right now?

oh lordy, that sounds like some sort of introduction to a late 90's high school romantic comedy. sick.