the rix mix

I got rid of my bed a long time ago because it took up too much space, had an old mattress that had been turned too many times, & I no longer wanted to sleep on so much history. I got a futon. In this apartment the futon has always been open but I few nights ago I folded it into the couch position, double-folded the featherbed a dear friend thoughtfully sent me last Christmas, & it was so much better for lying back & reading that I went through 100 pages of a Larry Sanders Archie McNally mystery last night & got eyestrain rather than stiff neck. I seem to be sleeping better, too, on the narrower, softer space. I used to sleep well with the futon as a couch but I thought that was due to the Zoloft I stopped taking before I moved here.

Yesterday, I absent-mindedly left my keys in the door lock when I came home. A couple of hours later, the guy across the hall knocked on my door so I could retrieve them. Awhile after that, the man in the next apartment knocked on the door to make sure I had gotten the keys & they hadn't been stolen. For all I don't like about the location of this building, nearly all the tenants here have been nice people - the bad ones move or are kicked out - & they aren't noisy: Except when my neighbors on the other side occasionally - usually Sundays - crank up really low quality African pop music, the kind that's stupid & unsophisticated in every culture, but is especially annoying to me because good African pop is a joy & would at least pass through the walls with more than a simple bassy thump thump thump.

A shout out to Jill from Brilliant at Breakfast for writing so honestly today about her body.