Sunday

I awoke early after a night of hard reading and thunderstorms with a quiet optimism that maybe I do know some of the answers. The ground is still damp, but the sky has returned to its usual summer blue. Outside someone is practicing sax, flirting with scales, half bursting into melody, abrupt stops, backtracking, searching for the sound.

I have no clue what I'm going to do today.

But that's ok. That's ok. It's ok. I tell myself. It's Sunday and you don't have to have something to do on Sunday. It's Sunday so it's ok you don't have a clue what you're going to do, today. And by the time I'm done telling myself, half convincing myself, bullying myself into accepting that it's ok it's one or maybe two o'clock. Past noon. It's the afternoon; so I start thinking about lunch but I'm not really hungry, it's something to think about. I had an egg, sunny-side up, for breakfast. I usually make them sunny-side down but I wanted to see the yolk today because I was up early and feeling good. I know I'm not actually hungry. I'm twitching with static energy. I check my phone. Maybe someone called. I would have heard it. There were those two minutes I wasn't in the room, though. I think. I can't remember why I wasn't in the room but I think I left for like two minutes. No one's called me. Or emailed me. But that's ok.

I start reading. Again. I finished two books last night so I start a new one. I read two books at once so that when I get tired of one I can jump over to the other. They were good. This one isn't. The author is talking about all the right things but isn't saying anything intersting. I should finish it anyway. Not now. Later. I'll put it down for now. I'll pick it up again later. Maybe. It's not that good. I could clean. I should vacuum. And there's all that stuff in the kitchen like dishes and the counter and all that stuff. I seriously consider cleaning. I walk over to the kitchen. I walk back to my computer and hit refresh -- maybe someone emailed me. I walk to the kitchen and move a plate. I walk to the computer but I don't hit refresh, that would be lame. I think about masturbating. I look at my watch. I could waste like 15 minutes masturbating. I'm not really in the mood. Later. I end up sitting on my bed tapping my foot on the ground like a twitch. Static energy. What were those answers I knew? The saxophone stopped playing a while ago.