Tim has been gone nearly every weekend for seemingly forever. It’s difficult for me to admit, but his absence has been really hard on me. With our work schedules, we barely spend much time together as it is, and weekends were the only time that we would sleep in together, make breakfast together, lounge around, and just enjoy each other’s company. We haven’t had that in a while. However, I am extremely supportive of Tim and his cycling and very proud of how much he has improved since last year. I just like him home sometimes too.
I also don’t like being home alone all night in not the best neighborhood in Chicago. Not that it’s a bad neighborhood, but it’s also not the best. I’m not saying that bad things don’t happen in good neighborhoods, or if something bad wouldn’t happen if Tim was home, but there’s just something about being with another person that kinda makes me feel more safe.
That’s why I was scared to death when I heard people in my cubby hole last night. Tim and I live in a garden apartment, which would be super easy for someone to break into if they wanted to. We have large unbarred windows and a front door that is not visible to the street. Our apartment is down a few steps next to the front steps of the rest of the house and our front door faces underneath the steps of the house. There is a little hidden area under the steps of our house around our front door. That’s what I call our “cubby hole.”
Last night Roscoe and I were home alone as Tim went to Baraboo for a race. I had just gotten home from 2 ½ hours working out at the YMCA and was exhausted. I was also very happy that there was no party going on upstairs. Our neighbors are big partiers and have huge parties nearly every weekend which really drives us crazy since Tim and I are quiet homebodies (no really Tim is too). If we want to be loud and party, we respect neighbors and go to a bar or something.
I was chilling on the couch with Roscoe watching Fresh Prince of Bell Air and I heard a noise outside our front door. If there was a party, I wouldn’t think it was too weird, but everything else was quite. Needless to say, I was pretty scared when the people I heard didn’t go away. I ended up unlocking the bolts on the back door (which goes out to the basement and then outside) just in case I had to make a run for it, and fell asleep on the couch. Maybe that was being a little ‘fraidy cat and paranoid, but that was just my reaction to people whispering outside my door at 11:30 at night when I was home alone. They left a while later, I didn’t hear them go, I just heard the whispering stop. I slept on the couch anyway.
Fast forward to this morning. I went to the grocery store and had a difficult trip back due to the gazillion pounds of groceries in an oversized bag on my back and asshole drivers that apparently didn’t understand a left turn signal. So between last night and my ride home, I was a little on the edgy side. When I got home, I threw my bag and my bike in the cubby hole to unlock my door. That’s when I saw it.
Inches from my tire was a condom wrapper. At first I thought that the wind blew it down there because we tend to accumulate garbage from the wind in our cubby, but then I saw the neon blue condom. All I could think of was “please do not be used,” but it was. The noises I was so afraid of last night was people f@#%ing in our cubby hole. For some reason I started crying. Maybe because I was still worked up with adrenaline from the bike ride and my lack of sleep because I was scared out of my mind, maybe I was just relieved that someone was just f@#%ing last night and not trying to break into my apartment, maybe I was just being my normal melodramatic overemotional self. I don’t know.
I am totally supportive of people’s non-normative sexual practices, just not in my cubby hole when I’m home alone sleeping on the couch scared to death. And why would you leave your condom outside my door? Gross. Go do it in a park or something. Really.
I’m putting off getting the rubber gloves on and taking care of that grossness. The post man just came down and for some reason I’m hoping he didn’t see. Lucky for you I decided against taking a picture of it and posting it on this site. Maybe I’ll just wait for Tim to come home and take care of it himself. He’s the one who left me alone after all.