The Full Monty

22 Apr

Sometimes I rack my mind thinking about what I could possibly write about.  I start a whole bunch of different posts and none of them really go in the direction I want. I spend hours on them, and then simply discard them uttering to myself the now familiar “that was stupid anyway.”  Then other times, I wake up in the morning simply FULL of ideas.  Well, not exactly full if you want to get specific.  Yea, let’s try that again.  Then other times, I wake up in the morning with an idea!  That’s better.  Anyway, this morning was one such morning and I wouldn’t quite say that I had an idea as much as an idea was sort of given to me.  Right when I woke up.  Thanks to my cat.

So my cat, Clark, has spent a fair amount of time over the past year attacking the shades next to my bed.  It’s as if he thinks that maybe all the slats are going to band together in the middle of the night and kill me with their blunt edges and their flimsy constitutions.  He has been so concerned about this that slowly, one by one, he has broken the slats in half, leaving them hanging off sadly until I get sick of how pathetic they are and throw them in the garbage.  RIP slats.  This slow and pain process has left my shades essentially useless.  The top is still robust, full of slats, but at the bottom, right next to where my head is while I sleep, there is a big gaping hole, an area devoid of any sort of protection.  I have toyed with the idea of purchasing some nice curtains – useful accent pieces, if you will – but have never found quite the right ones.  Also, I need a paycheck but that is a gripe for another day.  Suffice it to say that at this very moment, there is quite a bit of space on and around my bed where I have to be aware of my state of undress in case there is a Peeping Tom out there somewhere.  (Which, by the way, there is!  He talked to me once and it was terrible.)  Anyway, the Peeping Tom can see through my other window when I am irresponsible and don’t pull the shades down which, arguably, is my own fault.*  The lucky thing about this whole scenario is that the view by the broken shade is unobscured by other apartments, meaning that no one can really see through because I don’t have any neighbor-windows. The closest apartment window at the level of mine is a whole block away and unless someone sits there day in and day out with a telescope they would never be able to see me.

Oh my god what if someone actually DOES sit there day in and day out with a telescope.  I just totally creeped myself out.

Okay, moving along.  So this morning I woke up, looked out my window, and noticed that on the roof closest to my window there was a construction guy, just walking around.  I took note and was like

“Okay, Rebekah, whatever you do do not get dressed in front of that window.”

I think we all know where this is going.

I went down the hall, brushed my teeth, started the coffee machine (why would I drink coffee right after brushing my teeth?!) and then came into my room to get dressed directly in front of the exact window where I had, a mere 5 minutes earlier, told myself not to get dressed in front of.  Not only did I decide to get dressed there, but I also decided that my skin was dry so obviously I should stand, entirely naked, in front of the window putting on lotion.  Obviously.  About one leg in I realized the err of my ways, screamed, and ran to the other side of the room directly in front of the other window whose blinds I had left wide open because I was changing in an area out of the line of sight of any Peeping Tom’s who might use that window as their peep zone.  Also, by screaming, I potentially drew the attention of any additional construction workers who might have not already seen me in my birthday suit.

Sigh.

So anyway, I am fairly certain that this construction guy saw me naked and putting on lotion this morning which was not exactly the way I wanted to start my day.  But then I had this sort of descent into hilarity where I thought about how funny** it would be if the dude started like, yelling work out tips or brands of lotion that he thought might help me with my dry skin.  Like,

“Girl, you ever try that Jillian Michaels’ shit?” (and then he would demonstrate some of the moves)

or

“Girl, Jennifer Aniston swears by that Aveeno and her skin is positively radiant!”

Anyway, it was funny to me right when I woke up.  It was also funny to my sister Lucy who said, via text,

“Were you acting lude with food?  In the nude?!”

She told me she was quoting from a Flight of the Concords song but I like to think she was just quick on her feet.  Then she sent me a photo of herself looking “angrily disappointed” in a birthday hat when she was like 5 and that made me happy.

The end.

*I should say something here about victim blaming and stuff but I am too lazy so I just want to acknowledge that my starred statement was slightly problematic.

**Theoretically funny because in real life I would get mad about it and write a blog and a strongly worded letter to anyone who I thought responsible for the construction workers on the roof next door

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