Boston Confidential

Just a novice runner unhealthily obsessed with the shiny future and trying to collect as many T-shirts as possible

Tuesday, January 20, 2004

This is no way to start the day

This morning, I woke before the alarm went off and realized: Fuck! It was 8 a.m. and the thing had never even sounded. As I dragged myself out of my unconscious state, the sensation of the sheets against my bare skin roused me into reality. I looked down to see that I was naked. I never sleep naked! What the hell happened last night?

I sat up and it was freezing and still dark. I jumped up and grabbed a sweatshirt off the floor and threw it on. The sweatshirt didn’t stop at my waist. It continued almost to my knees and the sleeves hung off of the end of my arms. This wasn’t mine! I turned and saw that the front door to the apartment was open and I ran to close it. My heart was beating a mile a minute now; I was disoriented and scared. The door wouldn’t shut properly and I almost fainted when I saw the calendar on the back of the door. I do not have a calendar on the back of my door. The floor plan was exactly the same as mine but this was not my apartment.

I flipped on the foyer light and looked around wildly. Obviously, a man lived here. Alone. The sparse furnishings, the boxer shorts on the floor, the threadbare towel hanging off of the doorknob of the bathroom; they spoke volumes about the occupant. I was not the occupant of said apartment and I had no recollection of ever having set foot in the place, taken off all of my clothes and drifting off to sleep.

Breaking into a cold sweat, I tore the sweatshirt off and grabbed the still damp towel. Wearing just the towel, I bolted out the place and turned to shut the door behind me. It was apartment 245. Strange. I knew that I was in my own building and actually I was just a few floors up from my own place as the floor plan of this place mirrored mine. My building however, does not have an apartment 245. Now in full panic-mode, I flew down the stairs, passing people in the hall who did not bat an eyelash as my attire or the tears in my eyes.

As I approached the door to my apartment at a full-fledged run, an alarm went off in the building. My last thought was: There is no way I am evacuating wearing only this towel. I opened my eyes and was facing my alarm clock from a supine position. It read: 6:30 a.m.