I had a little surprise this morning. Though I know I shouldn’t let moments, good or bad, set the tone for the rest of the day, sometimes it just can’t be helped. Step in dog poop? Miss the bus just as it begins to drive away? Forget your umbrella? Major downers.
But today, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and I had on a cute green sundress (green is a power color for me-brings out my inner Scarlett O’Hara). I was even feeling so good that I decided to tackle the extremely difficult and tedious task of dropping off my dry cleaning which has been making daily trips on and off my bed for two weeks.….this was big.
But heading down the stairs I was stopped in my tracks. No, it wasn’t the prostitute (again, I live in the East Village) or our super. It was a fellow tenant who from now on will be referred to as the Hot Guy Upstairs.
Even though we’re New Yorkers who supposedly never see our neighbors, I’ve always managed to spot a fair share of lookers in the building, a lot of them with great accents to boot. But this guy had real potential. He was well-dressed (what is it about a guy in a suit???) and HOT.
“Hey there, Cutie!”
Don’t worry. I’m not so far along yet that I’m shouting random, though well-deserved, compliments to strangers. (Though maybe there SHOULD be more of that in the world?) I said this to the lovable dog that beat his master to my feet. But still, it counts right? Surely he got the message I was throwing his way?
Ok, so that probably shouldn’t count as a challenge today, especially since I may have bowled over Hot Guy Upstairs not with my charm but rather a sufficient amount of gag factor from the voice I used that is only reserved for babies and small animals.
But hey, the dog loved me. And as any pet owner knows, that’s half the battle. I know I’m not supposed to be talkin’ relationships, but I can’t help imagining how convenient it would be to run up the stairs whenever I needed a little petting myself…
Thankfully, I’m off the market. Otherwise, I could make a fool’s mistake of doing you know what where I eat.
I don't like a guy dictating my emotions any more than I like dog poop to do so. But after a day of being too tired, blue, whiney, and down on myself for having so much trouble being in the moment, she has to have a blog to re-focus her daily (aren't you glad my Internet failed before I got to write that post!), I needed this little moment between me and Hot Guy Upstairs. The girl with no patience needed a reminder that you have no idea what or who is around the corner. And that has enough pep in my step to try the real challenge for the day. I'm taking myself, by myself, to lunch. No reading material for backup either!
I’m off the market & in the moment!
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