After a long day spent
In the company of man
(and woman)
I drag myself home
With but one weary thought:
There, I can shut the door behind me
And thereby shut them out!
So I park my car in the cavern
Of the underground garage,
Gather my keys, purse, phone,
And other necessary flotsam,
And make my way
To the elevator.

In moments I emerge
On my floor,
For once grateful
That my apartment is located
Right next to it.
Opening the door,
The cool air scented with
My favorite freshener
Meets me only seconds before
The life-scarred cat I had rescued
Ambles boredly into the foyer,
Her twitching tail and raspy voice
Either greeting me or cursing,
I can never tell which.
I pet her lavishly and promise her
A feline feast,
Hoping that will hold her until after
I have first revived myself...
But, being so well trained,
I feed her first, of course!

Minutes later I have finally divested myself
Of the devices concocted to torture
The modern working woman, namely
Heels, Spanx and panty hose,
And am standing over the soaking tub
As it fills with barely bearable hot water
Scented with a virtual garden
Of lavender, roses, and vanilla.
Pillars and tealights
Flicker around me
And are reflected by the mirror
Over the vanity,
The artificial lighting is doused
To hide the fact
That I am actually soaking
In a mean little apartment bath
And not some exotic spa
Far away.

The cat enters
As I relax back
Against the bath pillow
My nieces had given me
For my birthday last year.
She leaps agilely onto
The toilet seat
Beside the bath,
Careful to remain
Safely out of reach
Should I splash,
But close enough to supervise
This form of decadence
She cannot fathom.

I dose and dream
Until the water becomes tepid
Then rise reluctantly,
Exhaustion having given way
To profound fatigue,
And dry myself with my one plush towel,
Before pulling the plug in the tub,
Blowing out the candles,
And returning to my bedroom.
Half asleep I pretend to slither my body
Into a sexy silk gown
While I pull the plain cotton sleep shirt
Over my head,
Pull back the mismatched, full-size bedding
With the same anticipation
Their being satin
Would have elicited,
And slide between them.

I feel the bed give
As the cat joins me,
Her purring loud enough to be heard
In the silence of my room.
The clock on the table reads
Eight-thirty-eight,
And I barely have time
To turn out the light
Before The Sandman himself
Takes me out.

November 4, 2016