Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Thirty-One
I didn’t hear the alarm, and now it’s way later than I thought it would be. But maybe it’s okay that I’m missing today's workout.
The youngest two head out first, on time — early even.
The oldest comes down the stairs in his flannel and darn denim, pours himself a big cup of coffee and scoops pear crisp into a bowl. This all feels strange, but also nice.
I picked the wrong two da
I don’t like any of the options it’s giving me.
I decide to take a walk around the neighborhood. A leisurely pace. He asks me if I’m exercising; no, just taking a break from the screens. The cool breeze keeps blowing through the back of my shirt-jacket.
This little kitchen project is taking way longer than I thought, but look at all the empty spaces in the drawers and under the cabinets. I’m sure it will all be undone within a month or two.
I think about how this compulsive need to clean the drawers is a reflexive need to feel some kind of control in a season of life where I’m going to lose a whole lot of it.
Jumpscares all over this show. My nerves can’t handle any more.
It’s just that I don’t see what I want.
