Nouvelle Vague

The air around the apartment has been heavy with my roommate and I. I dread seeing her in the latest interim of her self-sabotaging mess.

I’m ten years older than her, I remember what it was like to be that age and moody. Frankly, I’d rather focus on things I can control rather than her messy moods and angst.

Working in a thrift shop is a great deal of fun. I re-arrange the clothing racks, putting together fun outfits that shoppers go and try on. When I wander in the back, towards the warehouse, I try on funny hats and sunglasses before wandering back onto the floor and sweeping things up. I wonder about the dust bunnies, how and when they accumulated. I imagined they must have formed up sometime in the spring, back when I was at the rehab clinic. All those funny little ashen gossamer tumbleweeds that get caught in the bristle of my broom as I sweep. I imagine they must have formed while I sat in group therapy, idly sketching wildflowers while the guru spoke of Bob Dylan and mindfulness, or while we learned about EBT and CBT and learning to play the tape through.

R loves me. Right before I left for the day, we hugged again. She likes that I make myself useful and I love being of use, organizing all the hangers, making sure the linen closet is clean and tidy (it always looks like a poltergeist got loose in there);

I took a long walk after my shift was finished. I bought myself a cold brew coffee from the corner cafe and wandered into the supermarket where I bought more cream and a frozen tikka masala dinner. I took a ride home and immediately started the laundry before slipping into a steamy shower where I melted away the stresses of the day. Except, they didn’t feel like stresses, they felt like good work that was done and a shower that I’d earned.

While at the supermarket, I bought a tube of pink lipstick inspired by Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. I like it a great deal and it brings out my complexion. I bought a lip oil too, which conditions and plumps my lips. I like feeling pretty.

I work two more days this week and then it’s the weekend. Maybe my roommate’s mood will be finally lifted, but I’m flirting with the idea of moving into my own place here. My house manager isn’t against the idea, she’s been monitoring the situation with K.