THE BEAUTIFUL ONE~Volume One

DAY FIVE

Day Five

A few short hours later, as I opened my eyes to the always cheerful scene of rays from the morning sunlight forming patterns on the carpet just inside the window to my flat, I soon heard the all too familiar hunger growl, and felt the accompanying hunger pang from within my belly, along with the seemingly urgent 'call of nature' which, as in a previous occasion had seen fit to interrupt my ever-pleasant moments of relaxation, and pry me ever-so reluctantly away from the side of my beautiful Godly visitor, who was presently and peacefully visiting dreamland in a deep sound sleep. "Okay, okay, be quiet will you?" I responded in a whisper (to the sounds of my physical body) as I climbed carefully off the futon mattress, tip-toed into my bathroom where (after closing the door carefully behind me), after answering nature's 'call', I quickly disrobed, washed, put on clean undergarments, ran a hair brush through my long tresses which I then braided and fastened in a flat woven formation (similar to an Indian basket) at the back of my head, before tip-toeing back out to my sleeping area, and retrieving (ever so stealthily) from my closet, a floral print long-sleeved tunic and flared –legged pants-the only clothing items not presently in the clothing hampers. "Well, perhaps he will not mind seeing me in trousers just once." I thought to myself, while slipping into the pants and top before proceeding to my medicine cabinet for my beauty enhancement items of choice. "He's seen me in blue jeans after all..."

Sometime later, after finishing my morning grooming ritual, and making a quick trip to the grocery store (after discovering I was completely out of the grocery items on my list), I returned to my flat, and after ever so quietly unpacking and storing my purchases (including the shaving supplies I'd promised to pick up for Michael (the brands of which I remembered Perry saying were the brands of choice by most men), I proceeded to placate my hunger pangs, and quiet my hunger growls with the preparation and consumption of scrambled eggs, hash browns, sausage links, and toast, but not before starting a much-needed load of laundry in the closet-sized washer/dryer units conveniently situated against the sink-side wall of my bathroom. Usually, as a rule, I would have taken my laundry to the laundromat (an idea which would have chagrined Perry, who'd purchased the washer/dryer units as a means of making life easier for me by eliminating the necessity for field trips to the laundry each week) simply because of the cost of the energy needed to operate my washer/dryer. Although there were occasions-like today-when I'd already been out and back on one errand-when the luxury of having my own washer and dryer held more appeal than trudging seven blocks by bus to the nearest facility.

As I sat at my place at my dining table (after having quietly closed the bathroom door to muffle the sounds of the washer and dryer) presently finishing the last pages of "A Tale of Two Cities" (the book I'd read with Michael the day before), while consuming the first helpings of eggs, toast, sausage, and hash browns, it occurred to me to check the weather report for the exact temperature-something I'd not thought to do before my early-morning-spur-of-the-moment trip to the grocery a short time ago today. After finishing my current bite of food which I washed down with a sip of my breakfast drink of choice; (and setting my fork on the table beside my plate), I pushed back my chair, and rose to my feet in order to retrieve the copy of the local newspaper I'd purchased along with my grocery order. After retrieving document, which I'd placed on my kitchen counter next to my coffee making machine (which had just started filling the accompanying glass pitcher with the fragrant brown liquid, which was more pleasant to the smell than to the taste in my opinion), I crossed back to my dining table while simultaneously removing the elastic band from around the center of the document, before setting the multi-section document flat on the table surface, and leafing through the pages in search of the desired 'weather forecast' section.

"Mm...What smells good in here?" I heard Michael ask, having obviously been awakened by the pleasant scent of the brewing liquid, and the soft gurgling sounds of the purcolator.