Counting
Breakfast: none
Lunch: leftover mac & cheese
I'm counting the hours as they pass: 2, 10, 18, 24, 26, 27, 27 1/2.
Bad tv. There's the doorbell, and a knock at the door. And not just a regular knock, but a playful one, like he always does. And there's a jump in my heart, thinking that maybe it's him and the counting is over. But it's not. It's some weird guy calling himself Jimbo and talking about god knows what. And he eventually works his way into my house and looks around saying god this is a nice house. who's pool table. man you're cool. man you have a lot of wine. got any pinot noir? it's my favorite kind. And I'm appalled at his audacity to help himself to my house but it's also a distraction from the mac n cheese and the counting. So I gave him some money and sent him on his way. And I'm counting again. Trying not to crack.
Lunch: leftover mac & cheese
I'm counting the hours as they pass: 2, 10, 18, 24, 26, 27, 27 1/2.
Bad tv. There's the doorbell, and a knock at the door. And not just a regular knock, but a playful one, like he always does. And there's a jump in my heart, thinking that maybe it's him and the counting is over. But it's not. It's some weird guy calling himself Jimbo and talking about god knows what. And he eventually works his way into my house and looks around saying god this is a nice house. who's pool table. man you're cool. man you have a lot of wine. got any pinot noir? it's my favorite kind. And I'm appalled at his audacity to help himself to my house but it's also a distraction from the mac n cheese and the counting. So I gave him some money and sent him on his way. And I'm counting again. Trying not to crack.
posted by Ocean | 3:31 PM
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