I'm Ready

June

“Should you cancel yoga?” Graham asked, as he walked through the bedroom in which I was trying to work, my computer in a fragile equilibrium on a pillow, my iPad to my left, my phone to my right and my coffee on a tray haphazardly made up of books. 

He hadn’t knocked, for there is no door, and had filled the room with the low level anxiety he likes to carry around in the morning.

I looked up at him, and then I exploded.

“OH, YOU’RE NOT WORKING TODAY, SO YOU EXPECT ME TO CANCEL MY YOGA? IS THAT IT? IS THIS THE DYNAMIC NOW? YOUR JOB IS IMPORTANT AND MINE ISN’T AND I’M SUPPOSED TO DROP EVERYTHING ANYTIME YOU’RE AROUND? WELL MAYBE I HAVE THINGS TO DO. MAYBE I HAVE A CAREER TOO. MAYBE IT’S TIME I GOT AN OFFICE SO THAT SOMEONE, ANYONE, UNDERSTANDS THAT I WOOOOOOOORK!”

July

I was in my friend’s kitchen drinking matcha, bla-bla-ing too much, as usual.

“You and I, we’re frustrated!!!” I told her in my usual blend of finesse, subtlety and diplomacy. 

She turned to me with a dark look:

“I’M NOT FRUS…