A Day

It is 5 pm, the start of the final hour at work, my mind already wanders to the time I’ll change into my sneakers, pick up my bag and head to the train station. I will get on the N train for 7 stops and alternate between staring at my shoes and staring at the faces of my fellow passengers. I will get off the train and be amazed on what a sunshiny/rainy/breezy/snowy/gray day it is out. Will walk slowly home, climb up the five story tower, toss my bag on the floor, and toss myself on the couch reaching for the remote.

The next few hours will be devoted to brainlessly devouring cartoons and sitcoms. Finally around the hour of 8, I will start to feel guilty that I haven’t done anything for my mental/career development such as studying for GMAT, studying a foreign language, reading a book, or even writing my memoirs. I’ll scout the fridge for something not too fattening to eat and either munch on a piece of cheese, or eat some yogurt.

For some time now I have been terrified of my flabby armpit skin hanging like a hound dog’s ears. I decided that I might have lost the battle with my stretched marked ass, however I’m not about to give up on my upper body (of which I’m quite fond) so I started lifting weights while watching TV.

I don’t own dumbbells, so I scouted the apartment for something heavy and not too uncomfortable to hold. My sight wandered to the numerous foreign artifacts my boyfriend owns. Majority of them are presents from his Mom, souvenirs from her many travels abroad. The collection includes snowglobe-shaped candleholder, a wooden hippopotamus, a stone African man’s head, a stone elephant, wooden giraffe, Russian matryoshkas, handpainted table cloths, handpainted jewelry box, stone chessboard, etc. All of these treasures, carefully arranged for display on the entertainment center in the living room, give the room the feel of a bohemian museum.

The wooden hippo, of all, was the heaviest, however, quite bulky to lift. The winners were the snowglobe candleholder and the African head, which I would lift with my hands wide open over my head while watching Frasier. The hour of 10 will roll around, and the feeling of a wasted, perfectly sunshiny/rainy/breezy/snowy/gray after-work hours will settle darkly over my mind, leaving me to ponder, how am I ever going to accomplish my dreams. I’ll take a shower, pop a sleeping pill (a bad habit developed a year ago), and hit the hay.