There was one morning last week when I woke up early enough to catch that fleeting period before sunrise when everything appears soft, warm, and golden. My entire apartment was bathed in sunrays the color of marmalade. When I drew the curtains to let more light in, there it was — a postcard-perfect scene. Everything was awash in orange hues and tinges of gold, from the wispy clouds to the balding trees to the distant skyscrapers. It was as if I was seeing the world through yema paper filters, and it was beautiful.
I had a moment of pure and sincere appreciation for life, for my life, but I needed to work right away, so it was brief. It was good though. I was reminded of the many things to be grateful about, which I badly needed that day (or every day, actually).
I tried taking an unfiltered photo but my camera couldn’t quite capture the golden glow of my apartment — and clearly I’m not much of a wordsmith to describe what I saw either — but it’s fine, I guess. I am writing about this now just so I don’t forget that it happened. The past few months had been hectic and depressing but, indeed, per a Linda Pastan poem, the universe knows how to make amends.
Anyway, on a completely unrelated note, I woke up at 2 this morning because my neighbor was having super mega loud sex. Mind you, I am a heavy sleeper. If a zombie invasion ever erupted in my city in the dead of the night, I would most likely die in the chaos, simply for not waking up in time to hide and strategize — but that’s not the point.
Point is, the sex was real loud, man. I couldn’t tell if it was one of my next-door neighbors, or if the moaning was coming from upstairs or downstairs. Come to think of it, I could only hear one lady, so maybe she was going solo. It’s none of my business though, and I 100% support good, steamy, even hella loud sex, solo or otherwise, as long as it’s consensual. Waking up that early just wasn’t how I planned to start my weekend.
Speaking of, it’s already past lunchtime and I am just about to have my morning coffee. I am currently sitting on my couch waiting for the coffee to brew, and I am listening to my jazz playlist on Spotify, specifically to Julie London’s “No Moon At All.” By the time I publish this post, a different song would be playing. Thank god for music, man. And mad props to artists and musicians, too. I wouldn’t have kept my sanity intact if not for them.
Anyhow, the sun is out today and it won’t be long until it’s winter again. I need to go do something outdoors. I could go on a long drive and visit my parents but, hmm — I’ll think about it. For now I’m just happy that I am back to my slow and boring weekends, just the way I like it.