By ten p.m. I was in my jammies on a Friday night, watching television and surfing the net. The music in the apartment downstairs was banging against my floor and the boozy voices were laughing merrily. I was feeling a little nostalgic for the days gone by when I would have had a bottle of Canadian in hand swaying to some song I loved. That feeling of a sexually charged pub, filled to the brim with both people you knew and people you wanted to know. For a second I missed the size 2 jeans, high heeled boots and vanilla scented perfume that made me feel like a woman with the world in her palm and a little sex appeal ready to be shared.
Ah the days.
By midnight the boozy voices downstairs started to sound a little ridiculous. The enthusiasm with which a woman laughs while pretending to the man of the ‘moment’ that he may get lucky tonight is especially entertaining. The boisterous voice of the man of the ‘moment’ trying to get some is a little funny actually.
By one a.m. the music was nothing but a bang bang bang on my floor.
By two I wish I had never been the girl whose boozy voice kept somebody up. I was thinking that if I was sorry enough for keeping my neighbours awake in years gone past that the karma of that thought might shut that party down soon. Wishful thinking.
At seven a.m. I am thrilled that I do not have more than a sugar hangover. I am well into my Saturday with a doggie walk under my belt (along with some bacon!).
Im glad the night came full circle so I would wake up realizing how much I love my peaceful life. The days gone by were lovely but do not need to be repeated.