i’m happy to be here, sitting on my living room couch, listening to the drunks outside yelling about the bottle and can redemption machines. putting out my cigarette on a fancy glass ashtray that lilly slaydon got me on a trip somewhere, i don’t remember where. i walked at emerson college commencement on sunday after five years of handing things in late, and in a month, after i complete my intensive spanish course and some other last-minute crap, i’ll be able to say i’m officially done with college. it’s been 218 days since my last alcoholic beverage, and i’m eating pita bread and waiting 15 minutes for jeopardy to start. my roommate is listening to the new daft punk album behind her bedroom door.
this morning (and by that i mean around one pm) we sat outside of starbucks to drink our coffee, like 80-year-old women do. we walked the long way back to our apartment and laughed our asses off at a decorative black plastic pumpkin in someone’s front garden, singing ‘black pumpkin’ to the tune of ‘black velvet’. we stopped at a playground to swing on the swings. i swinged so high i touched the tip of the branch of the oak tree, barely grazing the leaves with my foot. i marveled at how out of breath i was after simply swinging on a swing. i thought about lighting a cigarette. i felt happy i quit my job a few weeks ago. my roommate and i vowed to clean the apartment this week. again. tomorrow, though. not today. it’s almost time for jeopardy.