"I'd be better off dead." Ben thought as he struggled out of his IKEA Malm bed, the low height of which gave him unpleasant reminders that his knees wished a swift death as well. Creaking and sore he arose to meet the morning through the one window that was not blocked by the cheap beige air conditioner. He knew he should remove it, as the chances for a sudden heatwave in November were about as likely as his landlord's turning on the heat. It was november 2nd. Tuesday. Election day. And the day after Monday, which he was most thankful for.
Tuesdays were, to Ben's mind, easier to handle than Mondays. Mondays were filled with an un-shakable apprehension of not know what injustices the week was to bring. Tuesdays, well you knew that sort of week you were in for with Tuesdays. Either you were having a good one, or a bad one. And as Tuesdays were far enough from Friday as to hold no excitement of the weekend to come, which lets face it didn't offer any excitement, it was the perfect day to get showered, get dressed, and make the 5 block walk to the Ditmars subways station for work. End of the N, Q line.
End of the line, he thought as he walked back into the bedroom to get his one clean towel from the back of the door. He smelled it. Smelled alright. Not "fresh from the dryer" but far from the mildew fodder of his other towels which covered his now full hamper. He blocked the image from his mind. He knew he should do laundry. He was wearing t-shirts that really had no business leaving the house, let alone going to work. Sure the sports coat did something to give the t-shirts some business caj authority. His outfits seem to say:
"I know what you're thinking guys, but if this were an inappropriate t-shirt to wear to work, would I be wearing this all too formal blazer with it? Surely there was some forethought to this outfit."
He had to do laundry, he said to himself and put it on his mental to-do list, the contents of which had a disposition to escape from time to time. Now that was settled, he got in the steaming shower for a 30 minute - 7 minute shower. He prided himself on his quick showering, although as is ex-girlfriends could attest, they were rarely even close to 7 minutes. 7 Minutes with a modifyer, maybe.
7 minutes * x = Actual Shower
Tuesdays were, to Ben's mind, easier to handle than Mondays. Mondays were filled with an un-shakable apprehension of not know what injustices the week was to bring. Tuesdays, well you knew that sort of week you were in for with Tuesdays. Either you were having a good one, or a bad one. And as Tuesdays were far enough from Friday as to hold no excitement of the weekend to come, which lets face it didn't offer any excitement, it was the perfect day to get showered, get dressed, and make the 5 block walk to the Ditmars subways station for work. End of the N, Q line.
End of the line, he thought as he walked back into the bedroom to get his one clean towel from the back of the door. He smelled it. Smelled alright. Not "fresh from the dryer" but far from the mildew fodder of his other towels which covered his now full hamper. He blocked the image from his mind. He knew he should do laundry. He was wearing t-shirts that really had no business leaving the house, let alone going to work. Sure the sports coat did something to give the t-shirts some business caj authority. His outfits seem to say:
"I know what you're thinking guys, but if this were an inappropriate t-shirt to wear to work, would I be wearing this all too formal blazer with it? Surely there was some forethought to this outfit."
He had to do laundry, he said to himself and put it on his mental to-do list, the contents of which had a disposition to escape from time to time. Now that was settled, he got in the steaming shower for a 30 minute - 7 minute shower. He prided himself on his quick showering, although as is ex-girlfriends could attest, they were rarely even close to 7 minutes. 7 Minutes with a modifyer, maybe.
7 minutes * x = Actual Shower
