all saints...in limbo

Last night I stopped by the new apartment to check in with the construction crew before heading home to organize the remnants of Sunday's sidewalk sale. Standing on 8th Street in front of the building, with a swarm of tramps and mass murders coming toward me heading for the Village Halloween parade, a wave of sadness came over me. No it wasn't because I would have to miss seeing the parade this year. Nor was it because of the enormous lack of creativity in the costumes. (I swear every woman was dressed as some form of slut and every guy was dressed as a character from a horror flick, like some dreadful junior high school Halloween dance, exaggerated gender rolls, insecurities and all.)

No, the wave of sadness was because last year on the very same night, Bob and I stood on the very same apartment steps amidst last year's swarm of tramps and mass murders and looked up at the same dark window on the third floor, thinking "Next year at this time, we'll be living there." We had already signed on the new apartment by October of last year and were just waiting for the mortgage and the lawyers and the paperwork to finish up so we could close on the place. And we thought that process took forever!

After I met with the construction crew, I grabbed the mail and headed for the subway back to Brooklyn. When I came up above ground a block from our current apartment, I saw two women in ghostly make up with exaggerated eye make up and lip stick. I thought they were in costume until I recognized them as two of the regulars at the methadone clinic across the street from our building. And that, indeed, was their usual daytime make up.

I am still in limbo.