Leaning on the 9

No this is not going to be a commentary about J.Lo's debut album On The 6.

Instead I want to go back to the Jew from two postings ago that may soon become my roommate in one of two great apartments I once hoped to receive.

I'm beginning to have second thoughts, though, that perhaps living with this guy not the best idea.

He called last night to give me an update on our joint endeavor to secure the apartment, and in ending the message he left because I was apparently asleep, he stated quite simply 'sleep tight'. It was said in such an endearing voice though, that an unexpected thread of excitement hurried quickly from the pit of my stomach and escaped out through my eyes or my smile.

I can typically rationalize things like this away, and in my convoluted and fucked-up head full of static (Six Feet Under reference...) I can usually apply some logic to a situation. But then I caught myself.

As the message ended I instinctively went to press the 9, to save the message. My phone was high-fashion three years ago and is now more a malfunctioning antiquated relic I prefer to call vintage. The phone's technology is so old that it can only hold a certain number of messages, so I generally only begin saving messages when I've really fallen for someone.

Yet this morning, on my way to the L train, I started leaning on the 9.

I caught myself though, maybe that says something, and pressed the 7, for delete.

And maybe that's the insightful metaphor of the day. Maybe I don't live my life with enough 9s and out of fear of being hurt or dissappointed I live my life with too many 7s...