Average Jane



In my new place

I have 4 keys: Building. Mail. Apartment. Gym.

There is no key fob and no call box.

My electric stove is a yellowing dinosaur.

My dishwasher door is askew.

The gym… it’s not a gym.

The bleach stained blue plaid carpet holds tight to the musty scent of the aging.

My neighbors are too old to know better than to leave their wireless connection unlocked. Too old, probably, to know Comcast tacked the internet onto their cable bill.

But there are cookies in the lobby. Homemade some days. Store bought others. Muffins on occasion next to a note about a local concert we would all surely enjoy. They smile a knowing smile as they walker themselves down the hall — knowing perhaps a little too much as I learned the hard way how thin the walls truly are and how clear the line of sight is from across the corridor.

My cable was just installed. Five weeks without left me itching for pop culture.  Within the first hour I learned that there was a Third Tool Academy, Celebrity Fit Club, Celebrity Rehab, and did you know Lost was back on? I saw Rachel Maddow and Gilad on FitTV. I gleefully flipped through 199 channels and found nothing I wanted to watch, beaming that I had such mindless indulgence at my fingertips. And that arthritis hasn’t set in, allowing that fingertips to keep flipping.

Life in my place is so good. It is not what I planned, but what ever is?

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Comments

  1. * Emily says:

    Very true — our plans are often in vain. But it’s nice to have a place of your own. Glad you’re enjoying it, quirks and all.

    | Reply Posted 7 years, 8 months ago
  2. * LiLu says:

    Sounds like my building… I love it, too. 😉

    | Reply Posted 7 years, 8 months ago
  3. * thedcam says:

    Wait, I can’t remember, this is in NYC right? Sounds like a palace compared to most of the people I know living up there.

    | Reply Posted 7 years, 8 months ago


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