Smudge

I've been cutting my mornings a little close this whole week. I just haven't been leaving my house at a great time to make the T that I want to. I have to hustle through my seven minute walk and down the endless flights of stairs down to the train platform.

Because I have to hustle, I get hot, and as i descend into the depths of the Porter's Square T stop, I'm definitely "glowing". I HATE it. NO matter what the temperature is, I'm hot and uncomfortable before I get on the T.

Today was no different from every day this week, but today, instead of taking the escalator down, I decided to take the stationary stairs. Its fine going down, I don't think I would ever go up.

I get down the stairs and walk towards the platform. As I'm walking I wipe my face to rid myself of the lovely sheen that has appeared on my face. Then I catch a glimpse of the hand the I used to wipe my face. ALL OVER MY FACE.

My hand was black with dirt and grime. My eyes widen in horror and I immediately drop my head so my hair covers my face an start to panic. I defiantly must have all that dirt over my face, but I don't have a mirror. Maybe it didn't come off on my face, I think desperately and take two dirty fingers and wipe it against my arm. Two black streaks appear and I can only imagine what my face looks like.

Then I remember, because I am hyper prepared, I have face wipes. So I discretely bow take out a wipe, bow my head and precede to wipe off the soot that has covered my face. When I looked at the wipe, it was completely black with a little of my tinted moisturizer thrown in for good measure. I scrub as I hear the train pulling into the station. I feel its the best I can do, shove the wipe in my bag and turn to face the train, figuring I will know if I got it all off by the degree of strange looks I get.

I notice a striped shirt in front of me. "Oh it IS you." The striped shirt exclaimed.

I looked up with relief, eyes wide and frantically shout, "Is my face all black? Is my face all black?"

Thank goodness it was my little brother. We sometimes end up on the same train. He assured me that I had gotten off all of the black, but I couldn't help frequently swiping at my face all the way to Park Street, while helping him do his crossword.

On a different note, I've been in high avoidance mode because I have something going on that I'm not sure if I want to write about, so I haven't been able to write about anything.

It involves D, obviously and its something that may or may not happen and I'm not sure if I still want to go through with it and I'm not sure of my exact reasons for why I may or may not do it.

Strait forward no? Can you see why I'm in avoidane mode?