I smell a rat. Ok, they're just little mice, but they have moved it to wreak havoc on my sleep and our cozy little East Village apartment.
A colleague of mine asked about the progress of the blog last night. Was I turning down dates left and right? Am I pressing palms with the publishing folk I know for possible book deal leads? No, I'm not on track to be the next Candace Bushnell because instead of being out and about in the city's hotspots, I'm home trying to maintain my sanity by setting up traps.
How off is that? This is New York City after all so thankfully, a few furry visitors are not a reflection of our housekeeping skills. Kelly Ripa has even had them on the 60-something floor! Instead, it's a symptom of the cool weather, living above countless restaurants, the work being done in our building and most importantly--the tiny little hole that exists behind our dish washer that I'm positive serves as some sort of welcome mat for our little visitors.
It takes a few weeks to realize that they've arrived yet again. I want life to stay as blissful as before so for awhile, it's easy to ignore the telltales signs--such as unaccounted for rustling behind appliances when lights are off--because I just don't want to believe it's true. And then if you actually see a little guy? Well, they're cute! Just as sweet-looking as any pet so you foolishly convince yourself into thinking he's just passing through and no harm will come of him hanging out for a bit.
Then, it's too late. Hell breaks lose, and the mice take over my existence.
That was last fall, but thankfully, we're not as bad as all that this year. YET. And I'd like to think I've learned my lesson not to wait around when I get a whiff of trouble in the air (or see poop in the corner).
Now what about those TWO-legged rats running around the city and portraying themselves as cute-faced cuddlebuddies?
I want to say I'm doing a better job of detecting guys with bad intentions, but I'm really not sure. There are a few boyfriends from relationships past where I've only just now begun to wonder if I wasn't played. But there's a fine, fine line to walk so as not to become a jaded female in this city, and I prefer to stay on the optimistic side rather than remain bitter. I'm sure that this is to my detriment, but I lean towards thinking the human condition is innocent, kind and well-meaning until proven not. And frankly, a girl can get depressed if she thinks he said what he said to possibly get ahead in the game, and who are we kidding, I'm already walking along the edge after playing exterminator at 4am.
So time to go home and do some major killing tonight before we're overrun by the suckers. But before you pass judgment on our deeds, remember I gave you the benefit of the doubt.
Being sexy in the city will have to wait.
I'm Off the Market & In the Moment!
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