I was so ready to be a city dweller.
I may not have been entirely prepared to live in a month-to-month efficiency smaller than my small office in a neighborhood with a large population of those who have slipped through the Bush-sized holes in the social services net.
On the island, I knew little of my neighbors and it seemed to work well for everyone. In my building now, I am assaulted with their music, arguments, meals cooking and televisions turned too loud the minute I enter the hallway. I struggle with the balance of keeping my television loud enought to hear without adding to the cacophony.
Every day is full of surprises, like finding an open Wi-Fi connection (Hooray!) and discovering my neighbor plays jazz guitar... badly and frequently.
I tried to do laundry on Saturday only to discover I had the wrong building key. When I found someone to let me in, I discovered I needed exact change. Lacking a roll of quarters, I loaded up the car and drove to the corner laundry. It was closed for the holiday, but the self-appointed doorman offered to keep my clothing for me and then followed me back to my car asking for a ride to anywhere. The laundry is still in the back of my car. Fortunately, he isn't.
At work today, a colleague told me it was probably good that particular facility was closed. The last time she was there a woman squatted near her feet and urinated on the floor.
I'm not ready for that level of transition. Nor did I appreciate my various in-home laundry rooms over the past 24 years. I think back on each fondly today.
The same colleague suggested a nicer facility up the street with a coffee shop and a bagel stand nearby. I'm taking some reading and heading out there tonight.
With any luck I'll be finished after tonight's guitar performance.


Copyright 2004 Judi Griggs