Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Twenty-Two
Much to be done.
Still no decaf. I begin to plot my morning with the assurance I’ll have time to swing by the market to pay $4.60 for a large cup of coffee.
Meal plan done. Groceries ordered and set to be delivered. Now, a little bit of time to breathe.
I am not late after all.
“She detested fashionable books and knew that time would never allow her to keep up to date.”
It is short and sweet but feels incomplete—nevertheless, a good way to spend a few hours in the shade.
I wonder if anyone else feels this way or thinks these things. I sense the shortness of time that’s left. I am thinking too far ahead.
But what’s with the sneakers and the socks?
Losing light.
I should have just driven myself; I’m not getting any sleep anyway.
