I woke up that Saturday morning around 9:30. It didn't take long to shake the residue of sleep from my consciousness as I quickly remembered what day it was, and a slight case of butterflies hit me. Normally I wouldn't have slept so late, but I'd had a hell of a time falling asleep the night before. Nerves, probably. Linda wouldn't be coming by to get me till 2:30, so I wandered into the kitchen of my apartment and fired up the coffee maker.
I opened my apartment door and felt the chilly air from the breezeway that led to the parking lot.
"Oh, good!" I thought. "Nice and cool!" I'm normally dressed up in suits daily for my banking job, regardless of the time of year, but today I especially was hoping for a nice, cool day.
I got the newspaper off the doormat and turned back inside, stepping into the kitchen. I pulled it out of its plastic bag and sorted through it, finding the sports section. My coffee was just about ready, so I took a mug out of the cabinet, put a couple of spoonfuls of sugar in it, and poured in the coffee. Grabbing a spoon, I settled myself on a barstool with my coffee and sports section, stirred my coffee, and started reading. After a second cup of coffee, I'd finished the sports page. The clock on the microwave said 9:55. Taking the rest of the newspaper into the bathroom, I read the rest of the paper, mostly concentrating on the national and international news.
When I'd finally run out of articles to read and ads to peruse, I went back out to the kitchen and stuffed the newspaper into the garbage pail. The microwave now read 10:26. Just over four hours till Linda would be here. I puttered around the place, mainly the kitchen, cleaning things up, wiping down the counters, and running the vacuum through the apartment. By the time I got done, it was 11:10, and I realized that it was funny that Linda hadn't even called. Almost at that instant, my cell phone rang on my dresser. Picking it up, I heard Linda's perky voice on the other end.
"G'mornin', sweetie!" she chirped. "You awake?"
"Of course I'm awake," I replied. "It's after eleven."
"Nervous?" she asked, a slight tinge or mischief in her voice.
"Not entirely, yet," I smiled back, "but I'm sure you'll fix that!"
"Yes I will!" she said. "I'll be there two or two-thirty, okay?"
"You're running this show," I said. "Just come whenever."
"Seeya!" she said.
"Seeya!"
I figured I may as well get myself cleaned up, so I headed into the bathroom, filled up the sink, and shaved nice and close, then brushed my teeth. Then I turned on the hot water in the shower and a minute later stepped in. I shampooed, scrubbed myself up, and rinsed, then stepped out and grabbed a towel and dried off. I brushed my slightly damp hair back and applied some deodorant. Today wasn't the day for body odor from nervous sweating.
I stepped into my bedroom, turning on the ceiling fan. Looking at my digital alarm clock on my nightstand, I saw that it was almost noon. I lay on the bed under the ceiling fan, just to get rid of any residual feeling of dampness. I looked again at the clock. Straight up noon.
"Might as well start getting dressed," I said to myself, even though Linda wouldn't be there for at least a couple more hours.
I pulled on a pair of underwear, followed by a pair of dark, navy blue socks. I stepped into the closet, removing the plastic from the dry cleaners from a white dress shirt. Taking the shirt off the hanger, I could feel the stiffness of the heavy starch that I always get when I have my shirts drycleaned. I buttoned up the first four lower buttons of the shirt, then reached for a suit hanger that had been hanging alongside the white shirt. Taking the pair of dark, navy blue pants off the hanger, I slipped them on and then slid a dark leather belt through the belt loops. Taking a pair of dark dress shoes from my shoe rack, I stepped out of the closet and sat on my bed, slipping my feet into the shoes and lacing them up. Standing in front of a full length mirror, I tucked my white shirt into my pants, zipped up, and adjusted my belt.
Stepping back into the closet, I brought out the suit hanger, which had a vest and suit jacket matching the navy blue pants I'd just put on. Taking the vest, I hung the hanger still holding the suit jacket on my bedroom doorknob, and stepped back in front of the mirror. I slipped on my vest and buttoned it up to the top, which was just about the bottom of my sternum. I buttoned up the rest of my shirt buttons, except for the top button, then the cuffs, which snugly encircled my wrists, unyielding in their starched stiffness.
I picked up from my dresser a bow tie that had been laid there neatly-folded the night before. It was almost solid navy blue, except for a very slight print. Flipping up my shirt collar, I slipped the bow tie around my neck, positioning it just right, then flipped the collar back down, making sure that the narrow center part of the bow tie was as high up as possible under my collar. Looking at myself in the mirror, I took a breath, and buttoned my collar. Nice and snug, starched as stiff as cardboard. The left end of my untied bow tie was maybe an inch longer than the right end. Just right. I started tying my bow tie, nice and tight. Getting the basic bow shape done, I proceeded to work both sides of the bow still they were perfectly full and even on either side of a good, tight knot. A perfect bow tie, I thought, making sure that the collar came up to a perfect, tight point like an upside-down "V."
Taking my suit jacket off the hanger, I put it on, stepped back to the mirror, and buttoned the top jacket button. I smoothed down the front of my suit, and adjusted my bow tie one more time. Seeing myself reflected there, I felt the butterflies that I'd felt earlier, only this time much more intensely. I saw myself staring back, looking so sharp and dressy in my navy blue suit, with my stiff, white collar riding high and snug on my neck and throat, and the white surfaces of my collar serving as almost a backdrop for my bow tie that was nestled firmly against my collar.
I gulped hard beneath stiffness of my collar, and breathed deep. The stiff, white collar rode way up my neck and throat, very snugly. I made an effort not to move my head, and just breathed deeply enjoying the feeling of being so buttoned-up and bow tied.
It wasn't like I was unused to being so dressed up. For my banking job, I was in suits daily, and bow ties as well. Since before high school, I'd chosen to wear only bow ties. High school had been Catholic high school, where the guys had to wear ties. From day one I'd made the decision to wear bow ties - only bow ties. That's all I'd worn ever since. I didn't even own a regular necktie. But the reality of the day was sinking in, kind of like a delicious, breathless, chilly feeling. I don't know how long I stood there looking at myself, but I finally looked at the clock and it was almost one. I took off my jacket and put it back on its hanger, then went out to the living room.
I opened my apartment door and felt the chilly air from the breezeway that led to the parking lot.
"Oh, good!" I thought. "Nice and cool!" I'm normally dressed up in suits daily for my banking job, regardless of the time of year, but today I especially was hoping for a nice, cool day.
I got the newspaper off the doormat and turned back inside, stepping into the kitchen. I pulled it out of its plastic bag and sorted through it, finding the sports section. My coffee was just about ready, so I took a mug out of the cabinet, put a couple of spoonfuls of sugar in it, and poured in the coffee. Grabbing a spoon, I settled myself on a barstool with my coffee and sports section, stirred my coffee, and started reading. After a second cup of coffee, I'd finished the sports page. The clock on the microwave said 9:55. Taking the rest of the newspaper into the bathroom, I read the rest of the paper, mostly concentrating on the national and international news.
When I'd finally run out of articles to read and ads to peruse, I went back out to the kitchen and stuffed the newspaper into the garbage pail. The microwave now read 10:26. Just over four hours till Linda would be here. I puttered around the place, mainly the kitchen, cleaning things up, wiping down the counters, and running the vacuum through the apartment. By the time I got done, it was 11:10, and I realized that it was funny that Linda hadn't even called. Almost at that instant, my cell phone rang on my dresser. Picking it up, I heard Linda's perky voice on the other end.
"G'mornin', sweetie!" she chirped. "You awake?"
"Of course I'm awake," I replied. "It's after eleven."
"Nervous?" she asked, a slight tinge or mischief in her voice.
"Not entirely, yet," I smiled back, "but I'm sure you'll fix that!"
"Yes I will!" she said. "I'll be there two or two-thirty, okay?"
"You're running this show," I said. "Just come whenever."
"Seeya!" she said.
"Seeya!"
I figured I may as well get myself cleaned up, so I headed into the bathroom, filled up the sink, and shaved nice and close, then brushed my teeth. Then I turned on the hot water in the shower and a minute later stepped in. I shampooed, scrubbed myself up, and rinsed, then stepped out and grabbed a towel and dried off. I brushed my slightly damp hair back and applied some deodorant. Today wasn't the day for body odor from nervous sweating.
I stepped into my bedroom, turning on the ceiling fan. Looking at my digital alarm clock on my nightstand, I saw that it was almost noon. I lay on the bed under the ceiling fan, just to get rid of any residual feeling of dampness. I looked again at the clock. Straight up noon.
"Might as well start getting dressed," I said to myself, even though Linda wouldn't be there for at least a couple more hours.
I pulled on a pair of underwear, followed by a pair of dark, navy blue socks. I stepped into the closet, removing the plastic from the dry cleaners from a white dress shirt. Taking the shirt off the hanger, I could feel the stiffness of the heavy starch that I always get when I have my shirts drycleaned. I buttoned up the first four lower buttons of the shirt, then reached for a suit hanger that had been hanging alongside the white shirt. Taking the pair of dark, navy blue pants off the hanger, I slipped them on and then slid a dark leather belt through the belt loops. Taking a pair of dark dress shoes from my shoe rack, I stepped out of the closet and sat on my bed, slipping my feet into the shoes and lacing them up. Standing in front of a full length mirror, I tucked my white shirt into my pants, zipped up, and adjusted my belt.
Stepping back into the closet, I brought out the suit hanger, which had a vest and suit jacket matching the navy blue pants I'd just put on. Taking the vest, I hung the hanger still holding the suit jacket on my bedroom doorknob, and stepped back in front of the mirror. I slipped on my vest and buttoned it up to the top, which was just about the bottom of my sternum. I buttoned up the rest of my shirt buttons, except for the top button, then the cuffs, which snugly encircled my wrists, unyielding in their starched stiffness.
I picked up from my dresser a bow tie that had been laid there neatly-folded the night before. It was almost solid navy blue, except for a very slight print. Flipping up my shirt collar, I slipped the bow tie around my neck, positioning it just right, then flipped the collar back down, making sure that the narrow center part of the bow tie was as high up as possible under my collar. Looking at myself in the mirror, I took a breath, and buttoned my collar. Nice and snug, starched as stiff as cardboard. The left end of my untied bow tie was maybe an inch longer than the right end. Just right. I started tying my bow tie, nice and tight. Getting the basic bow shape done, I proceeded to work both sides of the bow still they were perfectly full and even on either side of a good, tight knot. A perfect bow tie, I thought, making sure that the collar came up to a perfect, tight point like an upside-down "V."
Taking my suit jacket off the hanger, I put it on, stepped back to the mirror, and buttoned the top jacket button. I smoothed down the front of my suit, and adjusted my bow tie one more time. Seeing myself reflected there, I felt the butterflies that I'd felt earlier, only this time much more intensely. I saw myself staring back, looking so sharp and dressy in my navy blue suit, with my stiff, white collar riding high and snug on my neck and throat, and the white surfaces of my collar serving as almost a backdrop for my bow tie that was nestled firmly against my collar.
I gulped hard beneath stiffness of my collar, and breathed deep. The stiff, white collar rode way up my neck and throat, very snugly. I made an effort not to move my head, and just breathed deeply enjoying the feeling of being so buttoned-up and bow tied.
It wasn't like I was unused to being so dressed up. For my banking job, I was in suits daily, and bow ties as well. Since before high school, I'd chosen to wear only bow ties. High school had been Catholic high school, where the guys had to wear ties. From day one I'd made the decision to wear bow ties - only bow ties. That's all I'd worn ever since. I didn't even own a regular necktie. But the reality of the day was sinking in, kind of like a delicious, breathless, chilly feeling. I don't know how long I stood there looking at myself, but I finally looked at the clock and it was almost one. I took off my jacket and put it back on its hanger, then went out to the living room.