Confessions of a Wanton

7 Hydroflask

🎶 Soldier : NEFFEX 🎶

When I finally pulled into my driveway it was a quarter until 4. I parked with the front of the truck facing away from the house. I don't care if exhaust gets into the house when I'm gone. Clean getaways are where it's at.

I held onto one of the bones to deliver to my neighbor dog. I'd seen him laying in the middle of the fenced yard in the hot sun when I'd pulled in. He's a good boy. Looked at me but didn't even bark.

I jaywalk across the road, getting really close to the fence while throwing the bone a little ways in. His head came up with a whuff sound. Eyeing the bone I'd thrown, getting his big body up, sniffing it. Laying down with his tail wagging. Happy sounds coming from his large muzzle as he chomped.

"Hi Jax, I'm Char. Hope you had a good birthday." I said softly, smiling. He ignored me, cheerfully gnawing, as expected. I'm a stranger. I kinda hope I won't be for long. I really want to pet him.

At least he hadn't barked or growled like some peoples dogs. I understand they're trained as guard dogs. This big guy is nothing but bark though. I smile some more before turning back to my truck.

I have a little over two hours to settle in the stuff I could carry myself. I bring the fish in first, setting the delicate looking betas travel container on the marbled bar that separates the kitchen from the living room. The mahogany barstools that came with the house tuck under the lip of it enough that I won't trip over them in the night.

On top of insomnia, when I do sleep, I sleepwalk. Topping that with the nightmares that wake me at random moments and I'm just a bundle of nerves. Sleep deprived, sex deprived, comfort of home deprived. It's a wonder I haven't killed anyone yet.

Washing the tank and rocks to place in the bottom of the open bowl, I contemplate names. Rambo seems to suit him. Not sure why. Perhaps because the lady had warned me to not put another fish in with him.

He'd fight it. Feisty fish. I add the water needed and place Rambo in his new home carefully. Throwing away the plastics in the trash can I'd brought earlier.

I brought in my gym bag, and my suitcase. Throwing my workout clothes in the wash and leaving them.

Hey, I live alone, I don't need a hamper. When it gets halfway full I'll wash them, knowing full well that you're not supposed to mix colors. Lucky me I wear mostly dark clothes. Saving my time, energy and money. I put the suitcase on the unused bed. I'll unpack it later.

Maybe never.

I'd hated doing everyone's laundry growing up. Granted the other kid's had to do their chores too, but I usually ended up with the really shitty ones. Sucks to be a girl sometimes, though at least now I can choose what fucking color I wear. Pink is the bane of my existence and seemed to be the only color anyone could find when they'd gotten me clothes.

Now I don't give a crap. Screw pink. I'll do the stupid laundry when I want clean clothes. Or buy new ones online and get them in the mail. The usual.

I sent Roman a text from my cell. Hoping that his number isn't a landline. He did say it's his personal number but people are tricky. I gave my name, thanked him for the help at the store and left a smiley face emoji at the end. Now he's got my number.

I brought in my groceries, throwing the prepped meals in the freezer, the shakes in the fridge. A little bit of fruit centers my counter in a large bowl I found in the cupboard. I washed both fruit and bowl before setting it next to Rambo.

Next to the kitchen sink I put my water bottle that had that famous painting on it. The one on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. I'd been a little disappointed when it had come in my mail. It's the one where the two dudes are almost touching fingers. Yeah, well, the manufacturer had just put that part on the outside. The near finger touch. No dicks on this hydro flask.