Work in Progress Part II

I turned the radio to the local news and remembered to breathe. The rest of the trip home was uneventful reports of murder, war, and the occasional warning of ice on the roads that was causing tractor-trailers to flip over. At least those problems were on the radio and not in my own head. I refocused my Reality Binoculars. I was comfortable avoiding the chance to strut down an aisle like a white satin Mummer on New Years Day. Actually, considering how gaudy some of those wedding gowns can get, the parallel between the two wasn’t a bad one.

*****

My driveway, for once, was clear of any cars parked illegally for the bar across the street. I let myself relax as I pulled into my beloved designated spot behind my building. The wooden steps to the second floor had iced over again but it was too late at night to hack a safe path with the heel of my boot, not without chancing waking my neighbor or her German Shepherd. I held my breath and both handrails as I slowly made my way up to my back door and fumbled with the key in my gloved hand.

Finally inside, I received the usual rebuke and glare from my roommate for being out too late. Fortunately for me Dinah is a roommate with four feet, whiskers and an attitude easily appeased with catnip or skim milk. I didn’t take the abuse personally. She performed a perfect figure eight around my feet without seriously tripping me, a feat that took many years and many dropped microwave dinners to manage.

Two messages on my answering machine blinked at me. One was someone trying to sell me a time-share in Disneyworld. It was a tempting offer considering the cold snap over the Northeast, but I erased the message for my own good. The next voice was my high school pal out in Michigan, bored out of his skull and calling everyone programmed into his cell phone. I knew this because my name came after Jen and before Lenny in Rick’s phone list, and if he had been drinking he tended to lose track and call me by one or the other name.

“BEEP…Jess? Hello, Jess? Damn, I was hoping you were just screening your calls again. Are you there and screening your calls? Jess? Damn.” Click, BEEP.

Lenny? Hello, Lenny? Damn again! I could almost hear Rick’s next call as I wandered down the front steps to check for my mail. Dinah knew better than to do more than to stick part of her head out the front door to make sure I was coming back. One whisker-to-whisker meeting with Countess in the downstairs apartment was enough to keep her out of the dark stairwell.

I sorted through the envelopes, tossing the coupons and fliers onto the coffee table. On top was a telephone bill, a rather large one going by weight. Set that one aside with a wince. Electric bill, not so bad thanks to my love of thick wooly socks and an afghan knitted by my cousin Melissa during a very confining pregnancy. The four credit card applications were placed in another pile for a fateful meeting with my document shredder. A frilly and bright lavender designer envelope with my name written in perfect calligraphy…