It’s a muggy night. Not so muggy that it rivals the humidity of a night in Jamaica, but a Michigan-muggy. On nights such as this, the air sits uncomfortably on my skin. The doors and windows are shut for the evening and the sticky feeling that settles throughout the house cannot be canceled by a slowly turning fan. If I were still in Jamaica, I would wipe sweat from my face but instead my hand wipes at nothing in an attempt to cool down. Hot enough to feel uncomfortable but not hot enough to sweat. That’s what a Michigan-muggy night feels like.
I’m alert despite the hour or occasional yawn that escapes from me. Or perhaps I’m tired but kept awake from the glow of my computer, the sound of the tv, or my father’s deep breathing on the couch across from me as he sleeps with remote control in hand – or a combination of the three. Regardless of the reason, I find myself at my cursed computer rather than in my bed. Cursed because I often find myself in front of it at late hours of the night. Hours when I should be dreaming up something to write about rather than updating this blog with dribble.
The television is droning on in the background of my thoughts with intermittent music and the slow speech of an old Western film. Black and white. As I write, my dad looks up, shifts, and begins his decent back to sleep. It’s only us remaining in the family room. My mother has put herself to sleep some time ago.
Perhaps I ought to retire as well.
Tomorrow is today already and begins, come morning, with a phone call to a potential landlord. I am praying desperately that it will lead into a place to live as soon as next week. I am tired of waiting. April, May, and now June are slipping through my fingers as I wait for someone else to fulfill my “personal legend” for me. I’ve just finished reading The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho and it seems as though the delay of housing may be an omen. (Read it, if you haven’t.) The house I’ve been waiting on is outside of downtown Grand Rapids though I’ve known for over two years that my goal is to live downtown. Now that it’s taken a month and a half to come around to my actual move in date, I’m becoming doubtful of my previous decision.
I thought it was the right thing to do, to move in to this house outside of downtown, because it was available to me. Is it possible that it was only easiest?
I know I’ve mentioned it before, but I’m looking for a solution.
I suppose I will soon find one. By the end of the month, I hope to have a definite answer. And a new address.