You could always just start typing and hope that the truth, like the bobbin thread will follow below and keep everything together. Not allow for bunching up.
You can do whatever you want. In case you had forgotten.
I had forgotten.
Being reminded, knowing now, it bemuses me exactly what my freedom of choice entails. It isn’t the red or the white. It isn’t even pink. It is gray, it is brown, it is black, it is a frost, a stillness, a dust, a poison, an entropy, an eating of what might have been until all is marsh and glop and sick.
And I choose it.
I have some work to do in the morning.
This morning began cheerfully enough, for a Friday where I was unencumbered with work. An extra slice of Saturday. I got up, took a bath straight away as these sweaty, unbearably curdling evenings had affixed my bangs to my forehead, then, so ordered, I found myself aloft, and went and spent some of the thank you Starbucks card the boss gave me and drove the fast way that I avoid.
Then, I returned home for the delight of the parents arriving to do yet another stage on this seemingly endless DIY project. I wouldn’t mind, I generally think things look much better with the new flooring and am really quite relieved that we have made an effort on the whole thing, or really, that my parents have. It is a bit odd, though, for them to come a’rollin’ in on this stolen fistful of Saturday come a day early and everything comes with a recommendation. Constant improvement, they imply. Because you wouldn’t just leave things as they are. And since you are going to change, right, you might as well do it the right way the first time. This belies my appreciation. All of this can be true and yet I can have this second-sight about it. This is the way when you walk the line, you are so grateful and so despondent that you let simple little choices be stolen away.
Still, you see what I choose when I get my druthers.
I have to get my key back from them, I think.
I was in something of a mood all day. Maybe after yesterday’s autonomy and focus, to be swallowed up by the old patterns and the idea
We went here and there and everywhere and I ended up only spending a pittance of my small influx of funds on food. Not good food, by the by. I need to get the right desk for this room. I have decided I need to get up out of this bed and over and down on a chair in future for my computering. We went to a flea market and I found a few possibilities, but they still needed more tweaking than I would ever give them so we’ll see if tomorrow’s search goes any further than today’s.
More and less.
I just have to get up out of this bed.