Return to Sender

[ 9 ] : "BAD HABITS"

Friday arrived before I realized it. The week passed much like a fever dream, with all the highs and lows. I was happy that I'd somehow survived it all and found myself with a couple of days away from the madness. My plans were to stay in, hang out with Walter, go through and prepare my portfolio—perhaps lose myself in a bottle of wine and some reruns if I decided to get a little wild.

And to be honest, I earned that wine. 

Becca invited me to some event but I'd turned it down. After last weekend and the stupendous mess I made of my life since; I wasn't in a hurry to put myself out there. Plus, she would definitely ask me about how things turned out then she'd know how truly screwed I was. I didn't need her laughter to chorus the thoughts that filled my head most days.

I arrived at my apartment with an armful of groceries; a frozen lasagna, garlic bread, asparagus, a carton of strawberry ice cream, and a cheap bottle of wine.

"Walter! I'm home."

I kicked the door closed with my heel, slipping out of my shoes. A tiny sigh escaped my mouth as I stretched my toes into the plush carpet, bones popping as they settled with the same relief. Rent for this place was bit outside my budget, but it's closer to the office and had a great view. So, I taken up living a minimalistic life and it was worth it. Mostly. 

Shuffling my way to the small kitchen space, I dropped my bag on the counter and began to unload the groceries—preheating the oven. It's a quick walk to the tall, hand built housing I made for Walter. No wider than a bookshelf, it sits neatly in the corner of the combination living room; dining room. The dim glow of the warming lamp illuminating the cage.

My bearded dragon, Walter, was lounging out on the large driftwood that I picked up on a trip to the beach. His beady eyes lazily blinked up at me, head tilting a bit.

"Ready for some dinner, buddy?"

I reached down for the drawer I built into the bottom, pulling out a pair of tweezers and my container of grasshoppers. Unlatching the door to his cage, I grabbed a grasshopper with the tweezers and held it out in front of him. In a few minutes he'd gobbled up the remaining hoppers that I had.

I tossed the empty container onto the table and grabbed him out of the cage, holding him in my hand, stroking his scaly head with my finger.

"You're such a good boy. Yes, you are." 

A few minutes of petting ended with the oven beeping. With a soft sigh, I put him back in his cage and he scurried into the tiny hideout that looked a bit like a broken bit of a ship washed ashore, a cool netting lounge hanging above it.

I latched the door and hurried to get my own dinner cooking, setting a timer and deciding to have a quick shower before my meal. An hour later was seated on my couch with a plateful of lasagna, garlic bread, asparagus and a big glass of wine—in my fuzzy onesie, with the hood that included the bunny ears. 

It was when I was getting comfortable with my second plate, that a heavy knock came on my front door.

"...One sec," I called out around the food in my mouth.

Setting the plate down on my coffee table, I launched myself over the arm of my loveseat; a bounce in my step. I swung the door open wide, expecting to see one of my neighbors or the landlord, but that wasn't who welcomed me on the other side. A strange tightness gripped my chest and my stomach dropped down into my toes. 

I was staring into a familiar face, mouthful of lasagna—essentially wearing a fuzzy bunny bodysuit. My face flushed with embarrassment and I quickly swallowed my food, eyes watering as I held back the urge to cough.