the unpriveleged, single, working new york female: a half-day in the life

november 4, 2009

i got home around 1:00 a.m. and found a large, unidentified male sleeping on the floor in front of my door--not the door to my building but the door to my fourth-floor apartment. he was snoring loudly and didn't seem to notice me at all as i leaped over his leg and scurried into my apartment, but i think you can probably understand that it made me a little uncomfortable to know that he was there. there are children in my building, and nosy pets. also, i could still hear him snoring once i was inside, and i thought the racket might keep me up. i called the police, who arrived pretty promptly but stood in my hallway for at least half an hour haggling with the man about whether or not he wanted to walk outside with them. from what i overheard, which was everything, he was a schizophrenic who was living in a shelter but had taken his medication late and then had "some" beer, and decided he was too tired to make it all the way home. when asked how he got inside the building, he claimed to know and be friends with everyone who lived there, and then said he was thinking of a building across the street and couldn't remember how he got into mine. once he was in, though, apparently he found my front door to be the most welcoming of all the front doors he came across. that's nice, i guess, that my entryway feels warm and homey. at least, it would be, if i wanted anyone to come near my apartment, ever. i got to sleep around 3:30 a.m.

i left my house at 7:45 a.m. to move my car for alternate-side parking. thinking it would take me maybe thirty minutes at most to find a spot, i didn't bother to clean up or even change out of my pajamas, since i planned to shower when i got back. ninety minutes later, i gave up and double-parked two blocks from my apartment to wait for the street sweeper to pass so i could put my car right back where it had been at 7:45. i got back to my apartment at 9:35--five minutes after i was supposed to have arrived at work--and threw on clothes that, i realize now, don't really make any sense. i did not brush my teeth or wash my face, choosing instead to stuff my toothbrush, toothpaste, and a jar of astringent scrub pads into my bag and run out the door. at 10:15 a.m., on the train somewhere under downtown manhattan and still fifteen minutes from my destination, i realized that i had not peed since i'd woken up, and that that was rapidly becoming an extremely unfortunate oversight.

at 12:45 p.m. i ate the remnants of a sandwich that had been sitting out on my desk for 24 hours. i praised myself for not having wept at any point in this calendar day.

at 12:52 p.m., i read this, and i thought, yes. nothing more; just that--yes.

at 1:13 p.m., a cold stillness, part numbness, part calm, settled upon me, and i finally was able to address the three dozen angry, impatient e-mails that i had been staring at blankly for the past two hours. yes, dr. haughty, i did forget to attach the cover sheet. no, i do not deserve to work here or to live. yes, i will sleep uncovered on the hard floor tonight and meditate on my wrongs, if i survive the food poisoning i have undoubtedly contracted from my soggy and aged half-sandwich.