I make my way back to the bedroom to check the time on my phone and see if I missed any calls.
Damn, 10am already. Sure enough, there’s a missed call from Pete and a voicemail.
“Can’t live without me already, Pete?” I chuckle to myself lightly as I press the number for voicemail.
“Hey, Myssa, just checking in on you. Give me a call when you get a chance. I’ve got a question about the venture account.”
Ha, knew it!My lips curve upward in a triumphant smile as I call him back.
After a few rings, Pete picks up. “Hi, Myssa, sorry to bother you.”
“Can’t even live without me for one day,” I tease.
“Ha ha, very funny,” he deadpans. “This is not your get out of vacation card, Myssa. You’re still on hiatus. Just one question, then I’m not bothering you again.”
“Promises, promises. What do you need?”
We go over the questions he has, and at the end of our conversation I get the stern-Pete warning for me to use this time wisely and to try to relax.Oh, if he only knew.
Today, I decide to try to just do nothing. I make it a whole hour before I find myself pacing around my apartment, realizing that nothing really means I better find something quick before I lose it.
Next thing I know, I’ve scrubbed every room from top to bottom, vacuumed, done all my laundry, rearranged all my cabinets in the kitchen, scanned Amazon for little organizational tidbits that I’ve seen on the Tiks that Tok before finally plopping down on my couch, exhausted.
But throughout the day, I constantly wrestle with this odd feeling. Almost as if something inside me has woken up and is itching to come out. I can’t put my finger on it. I just know that I feel different. Not even in a bad way. If anything, I feel almost a sense of calm. The air around me feels thicker, and every step I take feels like I’m shifting into a different atmosphere.
My stomach reminds me I still hadn’t eaten all day. I slide open my junk drawer in my kitchen; that’s no longer junky now that I’ve cleaned it and pulled out the takeout menus that I’ve neatly organized by type of restaurant and alphabetized by name.
Did I mention I don’t do well sitting around with nothing to do?
One day off, and I’m already organizing fucking menus. Next, I’ll be color coordinating my mugs in the cabinet. I mean, honestly, would that be a bad thing?Of course it would be, youwhack job.I get back to the task at hand, deciding on Chinese, and when the knock on the door comes forty minutes later, I thank the delivery driver while signing my slip and head back to the couch.
Four more episodes of Supernatural and a belly full of chicken teriyaki later. I stand from the couch and stretch with a yawn, feeling the food coma coming on. After clearing up my containers, I head to the bedroom. Day one of Operation Bored-To-Fucking-Death down in the books.
“Can’t wait for day two,” I mutter.
As I go through my nightly routine in the bathroom, my phone vibrates on the nightstand. Still brushing my teeth, I walk over to it. Who the hell is texting me so late? Picking up the phone, the time display shows me that it’s midnight, and below that, I can see the notification that Vix has texted me.
Vix: Bitch, you need to come here Friday night.
Me: Where?
Vix: Frequency.
Me: That good, huh?
Vix: Oh yeah, just wait till you see it. The energy and charge of this place is insanity. You are going to love it. And the men…
Me: The men?
Vix: Fuck yes and just wait till you see my boss. Let’s just say I’ll keep a bucket by me for your drool, because he is fine as fuck and totally your type.
Me: Ha ha
Vix: I’m serious, his name is Z
Me: Z huh, interesting name.
Vix: Obviously it’s short for something, haven’t figured that out yet though. It was a fast introduction.
