Jodi
I guess I was a little anxious for my Day in Philly day because I woke up exactly at midnight. I went back to sleep and woke up a few more times before deciding to start the day around 9:30. I am glad my day is on a Sunday. It makes me think of the W.C. Fields quote, “I once spent a year in Philadelphia, I think it was on a Sunday.” (I have been thinking about W.C. Fields lately because he popularized what I would classify as an affectionate hatred for Philadelphia. Something that I have been considering - mostly through the lens of another famous Philly hater, David Lynch - in an attempt to contend with my own complicated feelings toward the place.)
I go to the main room to make some coffee. One of my roommates who recently returned from a summer adjournment is sitting on the couch watching the Olympics. He recounts his Saturday to me. He participated in a real life game of Survivor in Lemon Hill Park. He is always running around doing things - I wonder if I could ever muster up the energy to do half the things he does. He details the challenges while I put water into the moka pot, scoop in the coffee, place it on the stovetop, get my coffee cup out of the cupboard, and put some honey into it.
I fear my day will not be terribly exciting because I am feeling a little under the weather. My mom is in town visiting from Tennessee. I sit on the couch with my roommate and my coffee. We watch a stream rotating through Olympic events. We notice that the men’s tennis final is on and comment that my mom will like that but she isn’t awake yet. She emerges soon after and I make her some coffee and we watch the rest of the match. Her favorite player is Nadal so she roots for Alcaraz to win as he is heir to Spain’s tennis throne. I secretly hope Alcaraz will win but I say things like “Djokovic deserves to win at this point in his career.” and “You only don’t like him because he looks like a Disney villain.” Djokovic ends up winning.
We decide to go play tennis. The sky is threatening to rain. My sinuses are struggling. My mom crushes me 6-1 in the first set, which is not a shock. I am winning in the second set 2-1 but then I roll my ankle. This is also not a shock, I’ve got notoriously roll-prone ankles. It’s nothing major, but we decide to stop playing.
Back at home I have some lunch and take a shower before laying down on the couch. It starts to rain. Around 3:30 I make another espresso to split with my mom. I take a little caffeine nap. The Olympics continues to play on the TV. My head cold is really settling in at this point so I’ve pretty much resigned myself to spending the rest of the day on the couch. I listen to Gifted Hater’s latest rant while I play sudoku on NYT Games. I don’t really care about the guy he is talking about, but I admire his conviction - an attribute I sometimes feel I lack.
Eventually we make a dinner of roasted broccoli and noodles. We chat with my roommate and watch replays of the men’s street skating events. We love Yuto but my roommate comments that it seems odd the Japanese are so good at skating because people say rule-following there is next level. We watch Yuto’s Nike Sb part and then we all retire for the evening. I can’t believe I got the summer sickness. I think it will be hard to sleep. My head feels like it might explode.
Jodi hails from East Tennessee and lives in North Philly. She is drawing out her student status by taking a leave of absence from Tyler Painting MFA. You can find her slinging espresso at Old City Coffee or @jodi.like.this on instagram.
