Rainy Day Woman

Rain breeds loneliness. In the case of the single New York woman, there is nothing worse than coming home damp to a musty apartment. Maybe coming home with food poisoning. Maybe.

Warm rain I can handle. I put down my umbrella and let the rain soak down my hairline and drip mascara into my eyes. Others give off this look of pity, envy, and irritation. How dare I enjoy the rain? Easily, and I saunter around in my romantic mess with my raccoon eyes, drunk on the weather.

I can't handle cold, pulsing rain. I can't handle the emptiness of my apartment, or decipher where exactly the off-putting smell is coming from within it. Under the sink. Under the floorboards.

I digress.

This is the rain that makes me yearn. It is sinking rain. It is rain to light up a joint under the covers, burning down the hours until the clouds slowly part.

The real reason I am not on antibiotics

I've heard it's bad to go on antibiotics, I tell my doctor. I've heard your body develops strains of bacterial infections that are resistant. I think my body should fight this off on its own.

My doctor is so impressed he writes me a prescription for muscle relaxers and smiles. Keep using that nasal spray, he says.

I sure will.

You can't drink when you're on antibiotics. Or you can, but you'll probably vomit up all that pricey scotch. And the generic alone costs $20. No thank you.

There are certain situations my health insurance won't cover.

The 94th Street Taco Bell

A homeless man needs tacos, too
even though he spits on the floor
and growls at the garbage
purple plastic trays spilling everywhere
I walked 17 blocks to eat my crunchy tacos
they are delicious and I don't care what you say
I love the salty meat and
I don't see any rats, or e coli, just
my dinner date slowly unwrap a burrito
as the evening unfolds before us

Vino

When you graduate from college you are supposed to throw away all of your empty wine bottles. This way, guests cannot pickup on your alcoholism and there is less to dust.