Those Bygone Dog-Star Days - Chapter 3 of 37
~ Chapter 3 ~
Three-thirty a.m. on the dot as I roll over and reach for a cigarette. I barely have a sheet covering my groin in this heat. Out of what? Respect? Out of privacy? Neh, out of habit. No one's around here anymore for me to care if I accidentally give someone the dollar dance; no more unexpected phone calls or evening visits from acquaintances. Not much in this place makes noise anymore except for the refrigerator - and passing cars. Somewhere buried deep within my drawers I'm sure there's a pocket watch still ticking as it did a year ago. Perhaps a mouse or a cockroach will silently scurry across my floor, a fleeting midnight shadow. A lone, dented heater and a/c unit sit idle by my bedroom window as opaque blinds sit idle, a quiet sentry to a wind that's more history than memory.
Abruptly my peripheral vision catches movement of scurrying across my pillow. In a heartbeat I'm up, searching for the movement.
There!
"Ugh!" I recoil in disgust as a spindly black spider makes its way hastily from one feathered corner of my flat pillow to the other. With a grimace and a flick, I send the spider flying who-knows-where, but at least it's not on my pillow.
I get up in the city darkness and navigate my way to the kitchen. Momentarily blinded by the refrigerator light, I pull out a bottle of water and down nearly half of it in long gulps. Cooled, I put the bottle back and with a slurp and a suction of air, I belch.
The living room is quite a bit cooler than my room and most nights I find myself waking up either on the couch or the carpeted floor. Preferably I would've liked my bedroom to be carpeted and the living room to have wood floors, but does it really matter? I 'gots me a place' and I intend to keep it.
Stretching, I push the impromptu coffee table away, careful not to disturb the bed sheet covering a couple of storage containers, and lay down on the carpet. Within minutes I'm back to being asleep.
I become dimly aware of an incessant noise picking up in volume. The more I ignore it, the louder it becomes. Soon my head is pounding and I rocket to my feet, scurrying to my bedroom to shut off my alarm. Half-groggy I take a cold shower to wake up. Unfortunately as I discover about midway through my routine, my shampoo runs out and I'm left trying to lather myself with an old bottle of body-wash.
No bread, no eggs, no milk, no time to stop for breakfast along the way, I leave for work in the best possible mood.
****
"Morning, Aaron!" James, a co-worker, waves and calls out to me.
"Fuck off," I grumble.