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At ten, I got ready for bed and realized the sound wasn’t dulling anytime soon. I washed my face, did my grounding routine of skin care and teeth brushing, and put on my lucky pajamas—the silky nightie Lilah got me for my birthday last year. She spent way too much, but it’s one of my favorite luxuries. I wore it the night I put in my application for the bakery and woke up the next morning to a voicemail telling me I got it.
I secretly think it’s lucky—and I could use some luck right now.
Once that was all done, I lay down.
And I stared at the ceiling.
And tried to block out the music.
But still, it’s unnerving settling to sleep in a new place that isn’t completely yours yet. You don’t know the strange shadows, the way the wind creaks the walls. Every sound makes my eyes pop open, and the feeling that started last night is only intensified as the music continues, both adding to and covering the sounds my new apartment makes.
I check the clock on my bedside table. I check my phone. I check the watch I wear, which in the morning will tell me how many hours of deep sleep I had.
It’s never enough.
Each time I glance at a clock, I do the math for how many hours of sleep I’ll get if I fall asleep at that moment. It’s a habit—a bad one.
Why do we do that? Why do we count down the damage instead of making a change?
For me, I’ve spent the entirety of my thirty years avoiding confrontation. I’m a fixer, not a problem maker. For as long as I can remember, even when I was too young to be relied on as such, friends and family have come to me for help.
I’ve never stopped any of them, always doing whatever it took to make life easier for them, even if it meant a sacrifice on my end. I hate to be a pain, a nuisance.
This trait is what I’m warring with at midnight when I start questioning if I should just go over there and kindly ask my neighbor to turn down the music.
I can’t,I think.That would be rude.
This morning was unbearably embarrassing. We already got off on the wrong foot, but I signed this lease for five years, and I can only assume my neighbor has a handful of years left on his lease as well. I want him to like me, especially since I plan to be here for a long time, and I know the tattoo shop is well loved in the community.
But also because I’ve learned that you can avoid so many issues in shitty housing situations if you befriend your neighbors.
Regardless of my commitment to not start drama, Ican’t sleep.
This has to be God’s version of payback for being so loud this morning. I swear it. And I swear, if I had known that I was being so loud, loud enough to wake him, I definitely would have been more considerate.
New Lola might be committed to taking names and getting shit done, but that doesn’t mean she’s an inconsiderate bitch.
On the other hand, while I don’t want to bug himagainon my first full day here, there’s the chance that if I let this go, it might become a regular thing, and that would be worse.
I war with this for a while, trying to balance the need for sleep with the need to not stir the pot.
Ihateto stir the pot.
Except, this is my new page. New Lola. When I signed this contract, using the money I saved for the vision I selfishly let myself dream up, I told myself I could only do it if I was doing it for me.
Not to give Lilah a glimpse at what ambition looked like.
Not to pay off debts I didn’t earn.
Not to create another marketing tactic for Dad’s campaigns.
Not to honor Mom in some obtuse way that doesn’t even matter, not in the grand scheme.
But for me. Because when was the last time I really, truly did somethingfor Lola?I need to take more initiative. I need to work on change over acceptance.
And maybe even more, I need to work on not being such a damn pushover, letting everyone get their way at my expense. I proved I meant business onthataspect of personal growth when I went through the lease for the building. The owners wanted a ten-year lease—I demanded five. They told me I’d need to pay extra for the ovens and equipment already here. I refused and told them I wanted to get the place outfitted with extra ovens. I demanded an extra parking spot out back for an employee when I hire one and even managed to get a decreased leasing rate for the first six months.
I’m pretty damn proud of myself forthatone.
