i left work early to insure best use of my time, and it was going quite well for a while. i did all my chores and ate my delicious burrito and pranced about and then practiced my acceptance speech for the professional prancer awards. i may have done some naked mirror dancing (i may not) and it may have been highly interpretive of my abuse of the cable box’s “on demand karaoke" features.
then i decided to color my hair, so it would be fresh and bright for the holidays.
this is where things went wrong. nakedly wrong.
i applied the hairdye as i usually do, which is to say i shmooshed it all over my head with much vim and vigor. i even do my eyebrows, because nobody likes a girl with non-matchy eyebrows. since i am so thorough, sometimes i end up with dye in my ears or on my chin or whatever but i just scrub at it a bit with dye remover and all is well.
just a bit later, safely in the shower and in the throes of my intensive scrubbing process, the smoke alarm went off for no reason. and then the dog started whining, his poor doggie ears. and then the cats- the siamese leonard nimoy cat especially- started running back and forth, meowing loudly and with impressive dramatic delivery.
the combination of sounds was deafening.
i jumped from the shower and tried to pull the detector from the wall but it was just beyond my grasp. moments seemed like incredibly painful hours as i grabbed the nearest thing to boost myself and fumbled with the battery. i finally got the damn thing out and it fell to the floor… and yet the detector kept beeping. i pressed buttons. still beeping. i pulled wires. still beeping. i screamed, “shut up you filthy gutterwhore!” and still! it was beeping!
i looked around desperately but there was no one to help. pickles was hiding and the cats continued their cross-apartment operatic tour. i stood there listening to it all and I panicked.
i grabbed a towel and ran for the door.
i knocked at the building manager’s door but no one was home, so i went to the only apartment with a light on: the middle-aged dorky guy with the roommate i’ve never seen and the single strand of red christmas lights above the door. really, what’s the point there? it looks more like the door to a brothel than a joyous celebration of the season. but beggars can’t be choosers, and cold, wet, undressed beggars especially.
i stood there nervously waiting for him to answer, wondering what he might say (it puts the lotion on its skin? what’s your favorite scary movie?) and holding my towel closed and trying not to drip half-rinsed hair water on anything, and just as the door opened the beeping stopped.
so i casually explained the situation and apologized for bothering him since the problem seemed to have resolved itself, and he looked at me and looked at me some more and so i adjusted the towel just a bit for coverage and he said, “do you want me to look it up on the internet? because you should probably go back inside before you catch a chill.”
then i blushed a little (nakedly) and thanked him (nakedly) and went home to finish my shower, after which i did eat mangos (nakedly) and knit (nakedly) and dwell in my neighbor’s mind nakedly forever.