Sometimes, Delusional Optimism Is All You Need
Life is hard right now, but I’m trying to amplify the positive moments whenever they pop up
I found the cabinet at a garage sale. It was hideous: rough wood painted a fading puke green color. There were partially rotten patches in the wood, but I decided they didn’t affect its structural integrity. I needed it to store clothing because my apartment is so tiny; there’s not even a closet.
I lugged the cabinet up to my fourth-floor unit with the help of one of my neighbors, a good-looking financial planner who shamelessly hits on me even as he parades a new Tinder date through the apartment building lobby nearly every single night. I knew he would expect something in return for this favor (I once let him feed my cat, and when I thanked him, he kissed me—with tongue). He’s a disgusting human being, but the cabinet is heavy.
When we got it into my apartment, I pulled off a brilliant maneuver in which I wedged myself between the cabinet and the door in such a way that he had no choice but to momentarily step into the hallway—at which point I shut and swiftly locked the door, calling “Thanks so much, Jeff!” I heard him start to say something else, so I staged a coughing fit until he went away, probably because there was another Tinder girl in the lobby by now…
