I Am Sad

today. I don't know why. There is no reason, really. I'm just sad. And everyone else is busy living their lives, so all I have to do is sit here and BE sad.

Everyone else has someone else. There are three people I can hang out with at any given time. And if they are all busy with someone more important than I am, I'm left alone. I don't want to go home because it smells terrible there and it makes me sick to my stomach. I can't clean until I get rid of the smell and I can't get rid of the smell until I clean. Such is life. I am sitting in a coffeehouse full of other people and I am completely invisible and all alone. I would sell my soul to have someone to talk to right now, but my soul isn't worth enough to do that.

I'm hungry, starving. I can't eat at home, and the only place open on a Sunday night at 9 pm is McDonald's. I'm so sick of fast food I could scream. I want a clean kitchen to go home to.

If I had my way, this is the way my life would go tonight.

I would pack up my computer and go out to my car. It wouldn't necessarily be spring, but it wouldn't be this damn cold, either. In fact, it would be snowing light, fluffy snow that made everything look all glittery, but it would be pretty close to 30 degrees out. I would have mittens on, because in this ideal life, one of my mittens would not be stuck under my car seat covered in mud. I would have remembered to bring it in and wash it when it fell in the mud, you see. I would get in my car that was nice and warm because I would have started it with my remote starter, the one thatI did not forget to get a battery for, so it actually works. I would turn my headlights on without having to stick my key into the little slit where the knob used to be, because Heather would not have broken the knob off when I let her use my car to go canvass for Barack Obama when I was a neighborhood team leader and not allowed to go out and canvass myself.

I would drive to Elmer's Grocery and walk around for a while picking out assorted fresh veggies and fruits, maybe some pasta, some chicken or beef, something for dessert. I'd have a shopping list, because I would have planned this meal out ahead of time, but I'd have enough extra money that I could stray from my list and buy a little something extra just because it looked good. I would revel in the colors and smells and tidy displays in the grocery store, maybe spend a few minutes looking over the magazine rack. I might buy the latest issue of Cosmo, just for fun. While I was shopping, I would get a phone call. It would be one of my my friends, wanted to go out and shoot some pool. I would say no, because it's 9:30 on a Sunday night and I haven't eaten dinner yet, and I'd have to get up in the morning. We'd talk as I finished shopping, about all the little odds and ends of our lives. We'd hang up when I got to the cash register, where I would, of course, have more than enough money to pay for my purchases. I'd use coupons, too.

Then I'd go home. My house would not be full of junk piled up everywhere. It would be neat and tidy and clean-smelling. It would definitely not smell like someone had peed all over my carpeting. My dishes would be washed and put away, instead of piled up, dirty and molded, on my countertops, and there would not be hundreds of empty, unwashed food containers stacked up so my dad could use them to eat from instead of washing dishes.Everything would be clean and clear and neat, and ready for me to make my dinner.

I would put away my groceries, fold up my grocery bags and slide them into the space between my cupboard and my refrigerator so I could use them to return pop cans to the store and bundle newspapers on recycling day. I go into my bedroom and slip into a clean pair of underwear and a matching tank top, slide on a robe, step into fluffy slippers, pull my hair back. Then I would return to the kitchen and begin to wash and chop vegetables, add some sauce, saute some chicken, and throw it all together in a wok to cook while the rice came to a boil. While I was waiting, I'd page through the Cosmo and laugh at all the silly suggestions it gave women who were trying to attract a man. I'd be able to laugh, because I would no longer be lonely. I'd be involved with a wonderful, beautiful man who respected my body and my mind. In fact, in the midst of my dinner preparations, my phone would ring. I'd glance at the caller ID, smile, and turn down the seventies soft rock I had playing in my CD player, then answer the phone. "Hey, there, Loverboy," I'd say, in my most sultry voice. By the time I got off the phone, I'd be blushing while I added a few more veggies to the wok, because the owner of the voice on the phone would be on his way over. I'd set my smooth wooden table for two, light some candles, dim the lights, and run into my bedroom to spritz on just a little prefume. Just as the love of my life arrived, I'd be spooning dinner onto the plates and pouring two glasses of wine. He'd hold me close for just a minute when he walked in, then we'd talk quietly while we ate, stopping every so often to look at each other fondly. I'd let the shoulder of my robe slip down so he caught a glimpse of skin, and when he looked at me, I'd wink. When we finished eating, we'd slide the dishes into the sink and he'd gently rub my bottom as we disappeared into my bedroom.

Once there, I'd close the curtains and let the robe fall to the floor. He'd sit gently on the edge of the bed and watch, then pull me close to him and kiss me deeply. We'd turn the lights off as he slioped out of his clothes and I slipped out of mine and then we'd make love before we fell asleep in each other's arms. I'd wake before my alarm woke me and rub his back until he woke to hold me in his arms again for just a few minutes. Then he would get up and put his clothes on so he could go home to shower and dress for work. I'd take a long hot shower in a bathroom that was not flooded with urine and then wrap myself in a thick, soft towel as I watched the sun rise through my bathroom window.

If I could choose my life, that is what I would do. I don't have that luxury, though. Instead, I will go to McDonald's and buy food that I don't want to eat, but I will eat it anyway because McDonald's is the only place that's open and I can't eat at home. Then I'll go home. A wave of nausea will wash over me when I can't stand the cold anymore and I finally go inside, but I will hold my breath until I am in my bedroom and manage not to vomit. Then I will spray air freshener into the air outside of my bedroom to try and fend off the smell long enough to fall asleep. I will close my door most of the way, for privacy and to keep the smell out, but I will not close it all the way because if I do, my cats will cry all night long to get in or out. I will get in bed alone. I will probably cry, great gulping sobs. Eventually I will fall asleep, wishing more than anything else that I could be someone else for a day and know what it's like to live a life full of love and good smells and cleanliness. In the morning, I will wake up to my alarm, sometime around 10, and wish with all my might that I could go back to sleep for a very, very long time, maybe forever. I will be relieved and upset both at once that I did not get called to teach, because I need the money, but all my clothes are shabby and smell faintly of urine and I'd rather not have to try and look professional for the day. It takes too much effort. Eventually, I will get out of bed and shower and leave. I will spend the rest of the early part of the afternoon at Arby's, eating curly fries and a chicken salad wrap, with diet Pepsi that I wish was diet Mountain Dew, and maybe a Jamocha shake. I will dream of food that is fresh and healthy, something I made myself, something at home. And I will dream of love.

(Originally meant to be posted on the evening of Sunday, January 11, but it wasn't, due to a dysfunctional modem or router...)