Rituals and Reminders of Singleness

The other morning, as I stepped into the shower, I didn’t even notice that I had done so while unintentionally changing one small detail of my morning ritual. I had turned on the light in the bathroom itself and not in the short hallway between it and the bedroom.  I shouldn’t have, but, I’m glad I did. I shouldn’t have for the reminder of my singleness and I’m glad I did just for that reminder.
You see myself, as I’m sure with you as well, have a said ritual for every rise to the day leading to the heading off to work…or trudging. Depending on the day. Mine involves one: the ordeal of actually waking, often with a Bella patiently staring at me from atop my nightstand wondering just when the hell I will actually take this first step as her breakfast awaits with it after the sound of the phone’s alarm.
Two: I sit up, swing legs to the floor, lean into my manbag of stuff (the magic bag according to Bella and her constant head first dives into it to pull shit out to knock about the floor) and I pull out some vitamins and possibly an aspirin or two swallowed with the now flat half can of seltzer on the night stand that I opened the night before.
Three: stand and open the blanket that covers the bedroom window. Yes, the blanket and not say…the drapes. I’m a single guy, I don’t have drapes, not that mom hasn’t tried to remind me mind you. To her dismay my windows are instead covered in blankets (the drapes she gave me are still in a bag, though the bag is close to a window) or sheets in a kind of modern crack house chic. I saw it in a magazine I think…or maybe it was a picture from a police blotter. Whatever it was, they do the job.  This is the second best start of the day for Bella after that soon breakfast as she gets to hop to the top of her kitty condo in the window to watch and warn the birds of her catness as they eat the seed that a neighbor below provides for them daily. Then it is grabbing the now empty cat food bowls from the night before, into the hallway where the light is flipped on, a pit stop for a pee, and a walk into the kitchen to grab two more bowls for her breakfast.
Four: nakedness and heading into the bathroom for my shower usually lit by that light in the hallway.  This particular morning though I had skipped the step of flipping on the hallway light and my pee pit stop before heading to the kitchen for Bella food.  Thus nakedness was instead followed by hitting the light in the actual bathroom for my shower and not with the hallway’s illumination. Why exactly do you use the hallway light in the first place you ask? Why not the light in the bathroom like any normal human being you then ask? Because that light in the bathroom, dreadfully bright as it is, is just TOO damn white bright for the morning and you’re annoying me now with your questions.
This is when my singleness came into full, bright sad relief and I heard a sound, a deep voice.  It said “Turn out the light”. Confused, I looked around, but nothing. Then again “Turn out the light”.  I shook the voice off and stepped into the tub. Then the source of the voice was lit in that full, evilly bright morning bathroom light. It was my shower curtain. It was alive. Though its color was a rather fetching warm orange from the top of the tub down it was still orange, as was the rest of my tub and the low end of the tiles above it. Dollar General, save me!
Yes, my rituals, my singleness and the lazy that accompanies it (as well as an aversion to bright morning lights) had pointed out just that, my lazy singleness, along with an imaginary animated shower curtain. Dude! Clean your fucking bathroom! And while you’re at it, it’s a bit, no it’s a lot dusty in here. That may be a really cool looking collection of Bloom County’s on your coffee table but you can write your name on it!
“Yes, Ma, I put those drapes up … thanks … they look great”
“You want to come over when?”
Note: the author, immediately upon finishing this, and returning from Dollar General, also cleaned his toilet and went looking for a screwdriver to put up a curtain rod or two.

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