Before the Earth Cooled

5:08 AM
The nice Mr. Altan fixed my ceiling last night. I'm very happy with the results. I don't know what he did, but my apartment is now rain-free.

5:10 AM
Perhaps he can fix my heater, too. I'm about to freeze to death in here. I've got three quilts here on the couch and I'm stuffed in the center of them like an apple stuffed in a roast-pig's mouth, on the verge of being swallowed by blanket fluff. At this rate, I'll suffocate before I freeze to death.

5:18 AM
Lalalalala, tea is ready!

Fat kettle, shrieking
Your high sweet torturous note
screams: Tea is ready.

5:20 AM
Cheese, crackers, and I've cut up an apple... A perfect breakfast. Actually, the tea is what makes it perfect.

6:00 AM
My umbrella has a broken spoke; Mr. Altan wasn't able to keep it from snapping when he pulled it from the vent last night. I shall fix it with string.

6:04 AM
The string is not working.

6:10 AM
Die, string. Die.

6:15 AM
Alright. I've glued the spoke with Elmer's glue, wrapped it as best I could with duct tape, and wrapped it with string that I've saved from teabags. I've always saved my teabag string--the string that holds the little paper tab to the fat pouch of tea material, I mean. It's useful. You never know when you'll need some string, I always say.

6:18 AM
Like now. I just used some of that string I saved. I am NOT mad as a spoon, Sara Goodeart! Ha. I haven't seen my daughter for two years now. She probably thinks I'm dead as a door nail. And wouldn't that serve her right? I wish I could see her now.

6:25 AM
I'd wave my umbrella in her face and show her my teabag string, put to use. Mad, indeed! Look here, Sara!

6:27 AM
If only children listened to their mothers. They'd lead happier lives, I'm sure. Unless all mothers were like my mother, in which case we would have to despair for the human race.

6:30 AM
But I am nothing like my mother, so Sara ought to have listened to me.

8:00 AM
The doorbell's just rung, and now someone is knocking on my door. I suppose I should go answer it. Lalala...I have lots of tea. Yum. Oooh, this door sticks in the damp. Good heavens. There are two young men at my door. Well, one young man and a little boy. The little boy waved a clipboard in my face and coughed and puffed out his chest like a pufferfish.

8:01 AM
Only, of course, he isn't covered in spines and he's not a fish. That would be unfortunate for a little boy. Think of all the teasing.

8:02 AM
"Hello, Miss."
"Mrs." Just because my husband is dead doesn't mean I've lost my title.
"Mrs," the boy corrected himself very graciously. "Have you seen a number two anywhere?"

8:05 AM
I refuse to believe that I am going deaf. Therefore, I must have a build up of earwax.
"A number two, small boy-child?" I was never any good with children. Not even my own. What am I saying? ESPECIALLY my own.
"Er, yes. A number two. Like, you put it on your door." The boy pointed at my door where my apartment number is.
"Oh. No. I can't say that I have."
"Ok. Please tell me if you catch sight of it."
Catch sight of it? What is it, a fugitive? I can see it all now. The police have been trying to catch Number Two for a while now. Oh no! There it goes, harring down the street! Catch it! Catch it!
The little boy has walked off and he's pounding on the neighbor's door. The man--who could easily be my son, at his age--nodded politely to me and wandered on after the boy.
Perhaps they are father and son. I've never much paid attention to the people in this town. They'll all die soon anyways.

8:10 AM
Actually, it's more likely that I'll die first. I'm very old. I've been around her since before the Earth cooled.