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So, I couldn't sleep tonight. I don't know what it is but I've had a problem getting to sleep lately. After laying there for an hour and becoming hyper aware of the muscles around my eyes--tensing, untensing, then a few seconds later realizing that they had unconsciously tensed again--I figured that had better take drastic action. I don't want to disturb Celeste in her sleep so I use moments like these to practice my secret agent sleuth tactics I learned watching James Bond for years while I was young. I creep out of bed . . .usually this is as far as I get in sleuth land because inevitably, I'll knock my foot against the wall, hit something off the night stand, or some weird internal guttural noise will chose that of all moments to gurgle. Celeste will wake, turn then go back to sleep. I'm back in sleuth biz so I slowly get up and start to walk over the where I think I've left my glasses. Of course, I've forgotten if I've even worn my glasses within the last few days, let alone the exact location of where they are. There is rummaging in the dark, more noise, and hence, Celeste shifts again being woken from her sleep. Now, I try to put something on which involves more failed attempts at quite and more rolling around from a now sleepless and audibly cursing Celeste. I abandon sleuth and go for speed. Fast and furious. Get it. Get it now. And get the HELL OUT! I then find myself under dimming fluorescent lights of apartment 103, the tenantless apartment next to ours. 103 is used by the director of our school as a giant junk drawer. It has all the charms of our apartment except for the added reject furniture, discarded or broken appliances, and of course the "mystery smell." I've spent a lot of time now in 103 and still haven't figured out what makes the smell. It might be from the angry fridge used to create the special Mrs. Kang kimchi; the kimchi fridge that is kept in this apartment. I say angry fridge because I'll be reading away, knocking off pages of The Brothers Karamazov, when I'll begin to hear a low growl coming from said fridge. Over the course of a about two minutes, I've timed it, it will crescendo to some nasty climax then begin to decrescendo back to sleep again. Like Celeste, it's probably angry at me for rummaging around and waking it up. After about 20 minutes, it will get angry, wake up again, and repeating it's drawn out phrase of crescendo/decrescendo like a Brahms finale. Tonight, after about the third or fourth fridge growl, I decided that I have to abandon 103 (eject, Maverick! Eject! We're in a tail-spin) before the fridge gets really angry and makes me part of the special kimchi. Luckily, I found my wallet in my back pocket. I had cash. My problem was foot wear. All I had was my bright-red, poofy, duvet slippers--great for reading in--less great for walking to the store to get a snack in. I looked around and found only a pair of women's pink rubber slippers. I was desperate. I wasn't about to attempt going next door and getting my shoes, sleuth or fast and furious. I feel really bad about waking Celeste up from her much needed sleep. I ditch the duvet slippers, leave Karamozov on the dusty, broken couch and head out. Outside, it was raining lightly. My size 6 (women's size) slippers were about as comfortable as walking on nails. I passed by the bus stop in front of our building that was doing a very poor job of covering a drunk guy peeing into the bushes. I had to pass him, there was no other route. I wasn't surprised as he growled to me as I passed. I just strutted by with my sexy little slippers. I'm confident we were both thinking the same thing: "they let anybody roam the streets at 1:30 am." I mince my way to the convenient store and step inside to see four young men tending the cash register. To avoid possibly getting beat up, I shuffled quickly behind an isle, my feet out of sight from the horde guarding the 35 bucks in the register, probably very eager practice their Tae Kwan Do on the pink footed little pansy. I bought some water for an outrageous price and left. Now I'm typing at the PC bong in front of our apartment, keeping the game-junkie owner company. There is one other guy in the corner, quietly smoking. I'm not looking forward to my 7:00 am class in five hours. UGH! Pink Rubber Slippers--Scottro [2002-12-24]
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