The next morning I was sitting at my computer in my home office.
I should have been working. I had three deadlines the next two weeks and I'd barely begun on the work. I was a freelance editor. I got paid by the hour and if I didn't work that hour, I didn't get paid. I had a mouth to feed, my own. I had a body to clothe, a body that liked all sorts of clothes, it craved them so I had to feed the habit or things could get nasty. I had a cosmopolitan addiction and cosmos didn't come cheap. And I had a house I was fixing up. Therefore, I needed to get paid.
Okay, that wasn't strictly true. I wasn't fixing up my house. My Dad did some of the work. My friend Troy did other work. So, I should say that I had a house I was guilting, begging and emotionally blackmailing others into fixing up.
But still, it needed fixing up and cabinets and tile didn't march from Cabinet and Tile Land into my house and say, "We want to live with you, Gwendolyn Kidd, fix us to your walls!"
That only happened in my dreams, of which I had many, most of them daydreams.
Like right then, sitting at my computer, one heel to the seat, my chin to my knee, my eyes staring out the window, I was thinking about my Mystery Man, the Great MM. I was daydreaming about changing our first meeting. Being smarter, funnier, more mysterious, alluring, interesting, hooking him instantly with my rapier wit, my flair for conversation, my ability to discuss politics and world events intelligently, my humble stories of expansive charity work all wrapped up with enticing looks that promised a lifetime of mind-blowing orgasms, making him declare his undying love for me.
Or at least tell me his name.
Instead, I was drunk and definitely not any of that.I heard my doorbell go, a chime then a clunk and I started out of my elaborate daydream which was beginning to get good.
Then I got up and walked through my office into the upstairs hall making a mental note, again, to call Troy and see if he'd fix my doorbell for a six pack and a homemade pizza. This might mean he'd bring his annoying, whiny, constantly bitching new girlfriend though, so I changed my mind and decided to call my Dad.