Bath

It's 8:36 on a Friday night, where are you?


I'm home, still sitting in my work clothes that now smell like Nag Champa and the tofu fajitas I threw together after walking in the door. It's been a long two weeks. I can feel the tension creeping up the left side of my neck, threatening to spread its cold fingers along the lining of my cortex. I want to run a bath, but I can't drag myself to the tub to actually get it started. From below my windows I can hear the slow trickle of UC Berkeley hipsters and the young Temescal crowd milling about the Avenue. Contemplating, maybe, to start at the Kingfish first. I want to join them, but I feel content overhearing their terrible conversations from my perch on the 2nd floor instead. 


The room is the mess, our suitcases and boxes overflowing every which way in some plea for order. Instead I sit, clack clacking away on my sister's laptop, undecided if buying that bike online was such a good choice after all....I'm sure I could've found something similar at the flee market this weekend, even though I know all the bikes for sale are stolen. 


Jesus, do you know how good it is to hear that? The white noise of a passing BART train and the ho hum of the occasional car circling the block praying for an open spot? It's welcomed. I told myself tonight I wouldn't make the dive to San Jose. Instead, I'd sit around amidst my own mess and write: a small pleasure I haven't partaken in for some time. I want to be proactive and take my new journal down to one of the cafes within walking distance that stay open later, but I've caught a cold and I've finally gotten a bed you see. Yes, a frame and all! And it's been ever so difficult to drag myself away from her. 


I got the mattress some months ago after the inflatable one I had finally ruptured - I'm sure my flopping around half the night to try and get comfortable wasn't helping. Well, there went my small savings in foul swoop. But it as worth it. I was in love with my new bed, regardless of it having to be on the floor for the time being. Then the searching started and it was endless. Bay Areaians are obsessed with Craigslist and often times because of so, it's a real hit or miss. And, of course, finding a bed frame became more of a pain in the ass than it really should've been. I'd find a solid lead only to discover it was located in Holister (hours and hours away), or not great quality ("tends to squeak a lot during those romantic moments" really? why would you even post that?!), or the whole thing just sounded incredibly sketchy ("must pick up in the Safeway parking lot behind my house, no exceptions"). So I kept looking and looking and looking. Emailing and texting frantically in the hopes I could finally get off the ground....


Then I found it. A slightly used Ikea frame, real wood, but painted turquoise. I opened the picture and about fell over myself dialing the number listed. It was perfect! I felt like Ralphie from A Christmas Story, determined to have it no matter what the physical cost! 150? A little steep but...oh, you'll take $100 if I pick up tonight? DONE! So here I go, my sister in the passenger seat in Lola the Corolla. Didn't matter that it was in Livermore, I was going to have that damned frame if it was the last thing I did...that night. 


So we arrive and out pops a cute little thing with a septum ring and a black poodle. Oh? It won't fit even with the seats down? Fine. So off to Walmart we run for rope and a shitty fleece throw for the roof. An hour later with the help of her mother's drunk boyfriend's epic knot skills and a pat on the back, we were on our way home. Sure it takes up half the shared room but who gives a shit! It's EPIC!


I have to admit I wasn't so sure about this place, and I'm still annoyed with the parking situation. But it's getting there. For now, I'll finally run the bath. In the distance, a passing yell from a biker bleeds with the last BART train for the night. Yes yes, it seems I'm content from my 2nd story perch after all.


Pictures to come <3