the water was shut off this morning and i remembered when i turned it on to wash the dishes. it was six in the evening but the pipes were still making that sound like they were just now being reintroduced to the water.
i realized i felt dehydrated because i'd sipped on one glass of water all day.
the water turned brown, and i remembered that thing about pipes and turning the water off, and i waited for the water to run clear. when it did, i got started on washing.
the cups were from morning coffee. yesterday's. and as i washed, i looked out the window at the apartment across the street. except i wasn't really looking because i was too busy thinking about how we have our mugs now--the ones we use (almost) every morning for coffee--and i was thinking about routine and habit and how easily we fall into it sometimes when i looked down and realized the water was running brown again.
i didn't know how long the water had run brown.
and i looked at the dirt coming through the pipes and i wondered what exactly it was and i decided i didn't want to know. i just wanted the water to run clear.
when it didn't, i realized it was an excuse to pour myself a glass of rosé instead of water. dehydration be damned.
in case you are wondering, rosé makes summer feel like summer to me.
i took the glass of rosé and sat on the couch and i faced the wall of books that now lines the living room wall.
i've always dreamed of having a library.
i thought about how this living room has had three lives since i moved in not even two years ago. i thought about how i have felt like three different people. i thought about how i am the same, drinking rosé, fighting a sense of anxiety and lameness that has plagued me all week, staring at books i wish i wrote, worrying about a number of things i can't control.
i thought about how the sun still comes through the windows in the same way. even as they light up new things.
last night, i walked across the brooklyn bridge for the first time. it wasn't as calming as i thought it would be. you guys never mentioned how narrow the paths are (though the gothamist did just the other day coincidentally), but you weren't lying about how beautiful the city looks from up there. how lovely it is to watch it go from day to night. how appropriate it is to discuss how you are never leaving because you are home. how, despite darting between tourists and cyclists, nice it is to walk across hand-in-hand with one you have come to associate home with.
i've never sat at the south street seaport at night either and i did last night. for the first time in years, i didn't think about how the seaport was where i cried on september 11th after running from falling buildings. instead i thought of how nice and cool it was, how the water calmed me, how a nighttime picnic on an august evening was a dream i never knew to dream about.
i'm not sure what this post is really. maybe it is about how i've been falling in love with new york all over again. or maybe it is about newness. or maybe it is about dehydration.
or maybe it is just a snapshot of this summer.
earlier today i told someone this summer had been bananas.
not everyone likes bananas. but i do.