No Time to Waste

Personal Yummy #62

At approximately 4:05 I jump off the 61B at the corner of Forbes and Wightman and rush to my building and up the stairs to my second-floor apartment. Once inside, I peel off my tights and my stretchy dance top. There’s no time for a shower, so I wash my face, fix my hair a little (it’s already pulled back), and apply some deodorant. What’s the use of a shower, though, really? I’ll be saturated with grease and smoke by the end of the night anyway. It’s just a shame that I don’t have time to eat anything substantial. A raspberry breakfast bar will have to do for now. So I inhale it without a thought and then grab the ironing board, realizing full well that I should’ve ironed my clothes the night before. For some reason, I can never get myself to do it.

As I press my clothes, the odor of cigarettes and french fries hits me in the face. Oh well. Apparently I need to do laundry more often, or get more work clothes. The pressing done, I turn off the iron and unplug it, pull on my toasty khaki pants, and put on my light blue Oxford shirt, buttoning it up quickly and tucking it in. Then I start taking down the ironing board, then immediately decide that I’ll do it later. I grab a pair of white socks out of the top drawer of my dresser, plop down on my bed (the box spring sinking, once again, beneath the frame—I’ve had this bed since I was a kid), and put them on. Damn it all to hell! This pair has holes in the toes too. Nonetheless, my ugly, black, super-arch-support-laden shoes find their way on my feet, which take me into the bathroom for a swish of mouthwash and a dab or two of ruby lipstick. Then I’m out the door, my purse and bag (today containing The Vagabond, by Colette) thrown over my shoulder.

I walk into The Grill at 4:27, three minutes to spare.

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The above excerpt is from my coming-of-age novel—The Grill on Murray Avenue: A Story of Innocence—about the inhabitants of an unassuming bar-and-grill in Squirrel Hill, a vibrant neighborhood in the east end of Pittsburgh. The story is told by Jenna, a young waitress who dreams of becoming a professional dancer.

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