I arrived at the tailor's around 6:55 PM, just a few minutes before closing. The owner's son was sound asleep on a bench by the door, while the men were working behind the counter. In the background, a staticky radio played music in Spanish. I realized I never did learn the difference between Bachata and Merengue, but I would like to, someday. Even now as I write this, I can hear the drums playing in the distance. Every summer, it is the music of my neighborhood. Breathless, I apologized for showing up so close to closing time, and asked if he would see me. He paused, and decided that he would, directing me to a changing closet.
I'd had the dress for months, but dreaded going to a tailor. It was unfamiliar territory, and seemed like it should be an unnecessary expense, though I know how privileged I am to be shaped as I am. After seeing a friend's finely tailored suits on Instagram, I thought it might be good to finally mark this one task off of my adulting checklist, once and for all. I did end up choosing the worst day to do it. It was hot, and I was sweating everywhere after sprinting through the Lower East Side from the subway. The tailor didn't seem to notice or mind that, or the stubble on my legs. Insecurity, it seems, is a huge waste of time.
After changing, getting the dress pinned, and receiving my quote I decided then and there that I would treat myself to a nice icy Boba Guys bubble tea. It was a block or so away from the tailor, and how I envisioned I might reward myself for performing such a daunting task. I wonder how else I might apply this strategy to my life. Lately I've been struggling to get even the smallest things done, kind of just blobbing about on the weekends until they're over. I only seem to really get errands done on the weekdays, hoarding weekends for rest. It's likely a sure sign that I've burned out and that I'm in denial about it. For the first time in a while, I felt a little down today. Hopefully a little rest is all I need.