The phone rang harshly and loudly at 5 AM.
"Damn, what in the hell?" I muttered as I looked at the alarm clock on my bedside table and turned on the lamp. There was a hurried bout of acrobatics as I clumsily pulled on my shorts, socks, and shoes. It didn't even phase Maggie as she briefly looked up and then went back to sleep upon my warm and soft covers.
"Hello?" I stammered, picking up the phone, worried it may be Rosa having a hard morning.
"Can I be speakin' to Sheniqua?" A brusque male voice asked with a heavy Southern African American accent.
"Damn," was my final mutter as I sighed and hung up the phone abruptly – perturbed at having been woken up so early from a blissful slumber – the kind of which doesn't come easy to me.
Hell, I was wide awake and up now. It was time to get this day going. I hope Sheniqua and her brazen early morning caller unite and have a good conversation together. There ain't no Sheniqua here though.
I can be a stodgy old fart about rituals. My father has been known to jokingly call me an old man I am so set in my ways. Breakfast doesn't escape the tenacity with which I carry out the tours de force that are the obsessive compulsive side of my personality. Mess up my routines and I am on the floor, balled up in a fetal position, and crying my eyes out in frustration.
"Would you like an egg?" I asked Maggie as she had finally roused herself from the bed when she smelled frying bacon.
I looked into the carton only to realize that by cooking Maggie an egg would leave me five left and I have to have three every morning. I stood there stymied for a moment almost totally frozen. wondering what to do. No egg for Maggie was the majority report. I am a consensus of one and I am also obsessive compulsive. "You have plenty of kibble, girl," I told her, much to her dismay.
I used to shudder at the thought of eating alone. Now it is commonplace to find me sitting at my kitchen table, solitary, with a meal in front of me or down at the barbeque joint, table for one, scoffing down a pulled pork sandwich. Social anxiety can often be a weird mix of phobias and quirks. You would think a person suffering from it would gleefully eat alone. Actually, by eating alone, you stand out from the crowd and this is terrifying for a person who suffers from it. It is much calmer and anxiety lessening to have a trusted companion to eat with you when eating out. Luckily, I have pretty much overcome this deep seated fear of mine.
Well, let me head out for my morning walk. I will write again soon.