A New Season

Saturday morning I woke up early, excited. Christopher was holed up in his apartment watching college football games of universities that neither of us attended. I had other plans.

I hopped out of bed and made myself a bagel. The sun was peaking through my french doors, but the air was still crisp. I think it's my favorite kind of weather. In my jammies, I began winterizing my apartment. The quilt on my bed got folded and put away and I fluffed the duvet across the mattress. Summer clothes were put in the back of the closet while the winter ones were moved forward. Boots took the place of sandals.

I cleaned, wiped, dusted, sprayed and vacuumed. I emptied out the vacuum bag. I even de-dog haired under the bed where the Femme Fatale sleeps.

In the bathroom, behind the paper towels and glass cleaner, I found a glass bottle pump that used to contain expensive lotion. In my old apartment it sat on the counter until my ex used up all of the (scented and sparkly) lotion masturbating. I quit buying moisturizer because I never got to use it, but kept the nice bottle in case one day I would like to refill it.

I smiled when I found it. Today was the day it would be refilled. I found a plastic bottle of some Victoria Secret lotion I always forget I have and married the bottles. The glass bottle sits back out on the counter.

I often forget how free I am. I still don't carry cash because my ex used to go in my wallet and take it. He would say we were together and everything is "ours," specifically my money. If he ever had money and if I ever needed it, I could have it, he would tell me. But we both knew that he never had money and I never needed his.

The other day I met Harvey and our group of friends for sushi. When the bill came, everyone put down a $20 bill except for me, who placed a credit card with CHECK ID written all over it in marker. Funny thing is, the places my ex used to take it to never checked the ID, but all the nicer places I go to do.

I don't use cash because my boyfriend used to steal from me, I almost joked. But I knew it wasn't funny, and I knew they wouldn't laugh. It still embarrasses me.

I used to like tuna. I loved mixing tuna salad with cold pasta. I loved heaping it on sandwiches. I loved dipping crackers into it. I even enjoyed Hamburger Helper's tuna tetrazzini mix. But the ex hated the smell and would complain so constantly and so loudly that I stopped eating tuna.

I think I'm going to have some tuna.