4 a.m..sit-ups in the dark, a few leg raises…10 push-ups before peeing like an arthritic racehorse.
4:25…head under the sink, hair standing straight up like a troll doll…gargle…make bed.
4:55…out the door to Starbucks. Stop at all-night fruit stand for bananas.
Nestle in corner…answer email…check blog…flirt with Mr. Brook Brothers who was worried when I was French Pressing for two weeks. He is cute, in a stiff, Grant Wood/Iggy Pop in a suit, kinda way.
6 a.m…back home…toss on shorts and a hoodie…off to Central Park.
run run run…a woman sidles up in the inky darkness on her phone.
“And then we, and we had…and now I’m…”
“GET THE FUCK OFF YOUR PHONE LADY…DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS?”
7:15 a.m…stretch stretch stretch…sprint to shower…put on enough cream to swim the Channel.
8:30 a.m…write write write…chug enough coffee to shoot to Mars.
A donut with my Women’s One a Day Multivitamin…for girls on the go.
12:45…Audition for bone cancer..ahh, and where did the glamour go I ask you?
A woman in a mauve, much too tight, leather dress wonders, if I could possibly look a little sicker.
Do I have some powder I can dust my face and neck with?
I pull out my compact and pull in my cheeks. “This is the best I can do,” I say, looking like Bella Lugosi in jeans and a button-down.
“You’re thin enough, but just look too well for this, but thanks for coming in.”
Despite needing cash, I’m elated not being hired for signs of health.
Bed Bath & Beyond to buy toothpaste…and where is that 20% coupon?
Gristides for milk, and look, Oreos are on sale.
I stop to pet 18 dogs, wishing, would all come spend the night with me.
3:30 p.m…Give a homeless man my bottle of water and sixty-two cents, explaining how I just never carry cash.
“Now if you took Visa, we’d be in business.” He doesn’t laugh.
I stop at a church to light a candle after deciding to walk a bit.
I mean it is New York after all, with all her bells, sass and whistles.
4:45 p.m…It’s practically dark, winter in the wings, as I disappear into the subway, en route home.
Twenty minutes later, dashing off the train, tripping on my Sperrys, their right sole suddenly torn.
As long as mine isn’t, I guess it means, we had a pretty good day.