I don’t mind working late. And no it’s not for the reasons your all thinking, (ahem) work crush (ahem).
Most of the time I’m not in the office during the day but out with another vendor being treated as a client. And it’s just as lovely as it sounds.
I put a good, long hard day in. And I know when I’m complaining about the little things that I can let go of as I close down my laptop for the day. And I know when I’m stuck in bigger learning curves that I need to work or they’ll keep holding me back.
I smile and look people in the eye when I meet them. I push myself and hold back when I need to. I act familiar and comfortable and ask questions without apologizes.
There’s this great moment though when I’m leaving whatever high-rise lobby I’m in. I whip my scarf around my neck and smile to the security guard as I swing through the rotating doors to be greeted by a warm breeze. I fall into line with the tired, shuffling workers on the dark streets. I reach and battle for the comfort of a taxi and shrug when I settle on the bus. Happy that I saved ten bucks.
I play silent word puzzles over a stranger’s shoulder and make funny faces at a kid. I think about what’s in my fridge and start fantasizing about the feel of my slippers. And then I remind myself I really need to have sex soon before I forget how. I work on another word puzzle.
I exhale in the security of my own, empty apartment, slowly stirring the stillness as I turn on each light and move between rooms. The heels get kicked off first and then I remove my jewelry. And when I’m back in the easiness of my own height, I push my hair into a high messy bun before going into the bathroom. I feel light and lazy as I turn the sink water on. Water splashes on my face for minutes, and I scrub it clean until it’s red.
With just a light layer of moisturizer on, I become me again. I realize ten hours too late, that the blemish on my face isn’t as noticeable as I originally thought. And my bangs didn’t have to be messed with so much. I see that my eyes are starting to look worn in a way I actually like. I smile at my reflection and see how I look more like my mother every day.
I turn my blackberry on silent and turn the radio up louder.
And this is the actual dream I had when I was a kid, growing up what felt like a million miles away from the city: being comfortable in a pair of heels and pushing through rotating doors, striding into high-rise lobbies, the coffee cart guy knowing my usual, picking up a carton of milk on the way home from work, and dancing in my room alone with a view of the Chrysler building behind me.
And right now, sliding around in my slippers and the feel of tomorrow morning already in the air, I don’t want to be anywhere else or anyone else- blemish, messy bangs and all.
P.S. And yes, I know sometimes I ACTUALLY AM Anne Hathaway playing a lead role in Saint Elmo's Fire. But I gotta overact and enjoy it while I can because I know I could turn into a cameo at any moment.