about ten or elevenish this morning, I woke up to the lush idea of me enjoying a succulent belgian waffle with a double order of extra larded bacon on the side while ruminating on this great conundrum-to finally get that gym membership now or maybe next month.
just as I was about to call the diner run by those highly evolved mexicans, (you should see how this aztec cook takes only to memory multiple orders correctly all the time. not a written order slip in sight, top that.) I realized I only had three dollars in singles and some quarters in my still bulging wallet.
no way was I going to get out of this thermal-blanketed bed, head for a helter-skelter scorching shower, then dress up in mad layers, and finally slog in the still unmelted snow just to trek to the nearest cash machine.
so I scavenged among my two-week old unwashed denims hung, like aging prosciutos, behind two of my closet doors. but all I scrounged from them were more cold quarters and some uncomforting pennies. this exercise made me even ravenous.
I knew I had nothing in my fridge, except for stale soda and some condiments that need not be refrigerated at all, so I did not even bother to go there. I went back to my wallet and started shucking it fiercely.
there were three fare cards, all of them I was certain were already spent. and most of the stuff that made my wallet pouch were unpaid credit card receipts. two from this garden variety sushi place in east village, another from this fancy bistro in meat packing district that served edible but non-transcendent steaks. i did not bother looking at the other stuff. cranky, I just dumped all of these paper detritus with that of my other decomposing trash.
then dressed only in my thick turkish bathrobe and a flimsy pair of socks, I trudged towards the backdoor of my building where the humungous communal garbage bin stews. just as I shut the lid back of the slimy trash bin, I realized I forgot to bring my keys.
I do not remember how many hours, or minutes, I was left shivering out there in the cold before my building's super hauled me back in (?oye, muchacho, que paso?).
all I remember was looking horror stricken at my socked feet slowly being rimed with january frost and me, still peckish, shooing like mad all the house sparrows scavenging for food in the dullness of the snow.