|
Yes, the weekly garbage truck is doing its thing today. She wonders if it will one day be replaced by robot. Getting to "the Jetsons" will be a stretch. Like always, the ruling class and their sycophants give no shits.
She, like all humans before her, prefers to wait until the water is risen to her threshold and then she'll act. Being strategic is a luxury perhaps. She clutches the ball for inspiration, and decides nothing.
More importantly, she's going to take the rocks out of the Norfolk Fucking Failure Pine. She given up. She thinks maybe she's overwatering everything and doesn't want to imagine that metaphor.
She has a zit on her nose and probably could do with some more botox for the frown lines. It didn't matter all that much except in the epic struggle to have confidence in the face of all the options.
Yesterday, she had seen a perfectly preserved 50 or 60 year-old. Probably closer to 60, but she was kind of untested with guessing ages. She was the adored golden brown-haired trophy going about with her older relatives. They all looked the same - floral, cropped pants, and tan.
The ever-lasting geranium outside appeared to be dying too.
What was happening?
She guessed the metaphor would be stop giving so much emotion and flooding the earth. But why was this lesson new? She had been a lackadaisical plant owner for decades with only one loss.
The orange cat slept on her sofa. She had kicked it out the night before because she wanted to try and actually sleep. Since meeting the new possibility, she had been restless.
"Do you even like me?"
"why would you ask that? that's such a lame boring question."
"It took a lot to ask it because it is vulnerable, but mainly because I wonder if it's because I'm scarce or is it because of me? When I asked this question before, it killed a future - but are you still looking/fishing or are you working this line only? my line?"
"oh my god. that's the same question isn't it."
The yard already needed cutting again, and she had a four o'clock meeting on a Friday. She jumped from tangent to tangent to avoid asking the question - to avoid the answer.
The pavers were getting overgrown, but it was already too hot to contemplate any action out of doors.
She saw professor #2 yesterday and wished she'd gotten the cheese dip. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but she felt hungry almost all the time.
She remembered a time when she had been so sad so hopeless so delusional. It scared her because it happened once, for all she knew she could be in delusion again. That was a lovely thing about having a partner - a real partner even a friend - was that bouncing off - that mirror.
She avoided mirrors or was obsessed with them.
"I've heard that there's just very little choice for men, and that I'm a prize just because I'm available, yet I'd love it if you'd thought you might have won the lottery by meeting me."
"Jesus"
"I guess what I'm hearing is you're far from the cliche 'fuck yes'"
"you're so delusional"
"Now or then"
"that's for me to know and you to find out."
She remembered what her sister always told her, "when I was young I only cared if they liked me. When I got older I started to wonder if I liked them."
Narcissi loves his mystery...
|
