My Homeless Dad

The great thing about living in an apartment building with molecular-thin walls, is that you hear your neighbors: human or not. There's a free pet policy where I live so it's not uncommon to hear dogs barking, whining or snoring along with their owners. (Barking you ask? Read 'Bend, Breathe, Be'.) What's even more convenient than hearing their daily happenings is hearing their alarm clocks. Everyday. At 5 pm. Not annoying really, although I could use it at, say, 6:15 am. Then I might actually get up in the morning, unable to hit snooze 20 times. At five minutes per snooze, yes, I oversleep my alarm an hour every morning. Which brought me to this morning: running late. Again.

I'm starting a new, healthy routine of eating breakfast before leaving for work. It would work if I changed other aspects of my morning (such as setting my alarm earlier to compensate for the needed time for Bran Flakes), but of course I don't. So, at 7:46 I'm applying lipgloss, dodging puddles, zipping my jacket and combing my hair as I race to my car. I get in, slam the door, check for wallet, cellphone, lunch, umbrella. Good. Car in reverse. Drive. Ah, neutral! Drive. And carefully make my way down the narrow alley overflowing with cars. Lucky people who work nights and are still sleeping!

It's then that I catch the eye of a homeless man picking through the dumpster. He stops, looks at his watch, points to it and shakes his head. His one look told me everything: "Really? You're leaving for work now? I'm guessing you probably should have gone to bed earlier young lady! You know, sometime you're going to have to grow up and take some responsibility for your actions! Your boss isn't paying you to come in at 8:15!"

Isn't it great to have surrogate fathers?