when I sent the last text in the conversation:
1. Check to make sure my air conditioning turns on.
2. Check to make sure my air conditioning turns off.
3. All good. Thank god. Window units are not cheap.
4. Look at the bag of popcorn in my pantry to see if I've eaten enough of the family-sized bag in one day for it to be considered binge eating.
5. Decide that yes I have and put it back.
6. Plug in a mouse to my laptop to remind myself what it feels like to use a mouse.
7. Unplug it because that feels like a lot of physical movement and I'm not down for that right now.
8. Take the bag of popcorn back out and just pretend that I ate the first half of it yesterday.
9. Refresh Instagram in a rhythm that matches the beat of the song 500 Miles while counting how many updates load between beats. Think about how much I love that scene in the movie Benny & Joon.
10. Check Seamless to see what household items are available to purchase.
11. Order contact lens solution, dryer sheets, and 3 rolls of toilet paper. I don't use dryer sheets but this feels luxurious.
12. Count how many full pairs of earrings I have left. Realize that this number is almost zero and think for a while about where all of those earrings could be right now. Realize this could make for a good short story. Open up Notes and write "adventures of the solo earrings" on a blank page. Realize it's probably a dumb idea and start a new Note in case someone opens my phone and sees it and realizes I'm an idiot.
13. Buzz the Seamless delivery man up. Refuse to acknowledge his judgment. Which feels a bit misdirected but my psychoanalysis skills are admittedly not what they never were.
14. Pick up my phone and type two "quippy" lines in a draft text to myself in case I accidentally press send. Consider whether they sound effortless or desperate. Consensus: Desperate. Turn phone on airplane mode.
15. Turn plane off airplane mode.
16. Turn plane on airplane mode.
17. Turn phone off.
18. Go sit on fire escape without phone.
19. Go grab phone and set it next to me on fire escape. (Still off).
20. Think about how this is nice and very New York of me. Think about how it would also be nice to write a song out here by candlelight.
21. Dig around for matches/a lighter to light said candle.
22. Find nothing. Consider why I have all these candles and no lighters? If I had more men over, I would have lighters. That sounds like something people who have lots of men over would be very good at.
23. Think about walking to corner bodega for lighter.
24. Think about how that seems like a lot of walking and turn off lights and sit in the dark for a similar effect.
25. Open laptop to begin writing lyrics. Realize all I want to write about is the feeling of not being texted back. Acknowledge desperate sensation of neediness and hate myself. Curse modern society and social norms. Fuck men. Amy Schumer would definitely not care about this. I am a strong independent self-assured woman with little to no (an enormous) need for external approval. Turn phone back on. Re-type afore-drafted "quippy" texts into proper window. Press send.
26. Become debilitatingly overwhelmed by the self-doubt and anxiety surrounding the potential of unrequited interest.
27. Block his number.
28. Delete his number.
29. Convince myself that I've definitely won this interaction.
30. Debate whether dying alone with a dog is as bad as dying alone with a cat.