sometimes . . .
. . . it's hard to figure out why you spend 10 hours of your day and all your energy on something that really shouldn't matter.
. . . you walk outside only to be smacked in the face by 103 degree heat, not knowing why you're in such a hurry to get across the parking lot, because the inside of your car is at least that hot.
. . . you get home and try to find something on TV to watch while eating dinner, finally giving up and eating in silence.
. . . you wonder why a cat would ever eat steamed cabbage. You cease to wonder about anything, after that.
. . . you remember why you had been tempted to eat out, as you battle with the dishes.
Sometimes . . . you listen to Lady 'Day on the radio with all the lights off, and stare at the ceiling, trying to make out the plaster spots in the sound-punctuated darkness, happy at occasionally finding a little sliver of peace on the most unlikely of days. . . .
. . . you walk outside only to be smacked in the face by 103 degree heat, not knowing why you're in such a hurry to get across the parking lot, because the inside of your car is at least that hot.
. . . you get home and try to find something on TV to watch while eating dinner, finally giving up and eating in silence.
. . . you wonder why a cat would ever eat steamed cabbage. You cease to wonder about anything, after that.
. . . you remember why you had been tempted to eat out, as you battle with the dishes.
Sometimes . . . you listen to Lady 'Day on the radio with all the lights off, and stare at the ceiling, trying to make out the plaster spots in the sound-punctuated darkness, happy at occasionally finding a little sliver of peace on the most unlikely of days. . . .