It’s fifty-five minutes past 2am and yet, I am still awake. I’m waiting for my mother to get back to the apartment. I didn’t want to be the one who had to open the door for her, but with the process of elimination (grandpa – asleep, grandma – attempting to sleep, uncle Zeff – too busy watching some sort of sports game, where I can still hear him screaming, ‘Common!’ or chant ‘YEAH!’ in a frenzy) and me; talking to my boyfriend and browsing facebook. Guess who got the job?
If you're one of those mentally slow people, I forgive you. Trust me. I was mentally slow once. In freshman Algebra where my teacher resembled a pig, laughed like a hyena and taught class like a cow. It seems as if the only thing that came out of her mouth was grass because it looks like she ate too much of it. Or perhaps, my teacher was the mentally slow one and I just couldn't comprehend with her slow-witted mentality?
In other words, it was me who has to open the door for my mother. I get to be the "doorman" for a second and half. Too bad I don't have a lavish suit and a hat to wear - and I'll seriously look the part.
So here I was, in the kitchen, with the only noise I can mildly hear is haphazard trucks roaming through the New York polluted air and my all time favorite, mice squeaky through the drawers. It’s not healthy to live in such a boisterous environment, but what can you do?
Yes! The phone just rang. My mom is coming up nine floors to get to ours.
[2 seconds later] I perform my "doormanesque" activity while my mom asks,
“Zimbob, you’re still awake?”
“Yes, unfortunately.”
My little brain talking: Well duh! I would have been asleep hours ago, but I had to wait for you and your sorry ass to come back from Queens where you did God knows what with this half Parisian man.
In case you didn’t understand that line, she’s here; inside the bathroom; removing all of her make-up that looks too clownish for my “conservative” taste and changing her clothes that look too “mid 1970’s” for me.
But is this my queue to go to sleep now? Perhaps so, but I’m not done. I must finish what I’ve started; something every single living citizen must take to account when she, he, or it undertakes a task.
Actually, I’m not sure what needs to be finished. I mean, writing this entry wasn’t exactly on my “To Do Lists.” Sometimes, I do things on impulse. Damn, I’m so impromptu these days. I hope my kitten is doing okay. I seriously hope Todd gave her clean water and cleaned the litter.
Don’t you hate it when you walk into your room and it smells like kitty shit?
