Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Thirty-One
Slow going.
Big appreciation for the early morning light. It feels warm.
I forgot to buy pods.
I tell her that the secret to a good cup of decaf is using the Nespresso machine. Tea is not a substitute, and drip decaf is also lacking.
I drop my ballot into the box.
I tell her she looks so very Parisian. She was going for patriotic. Oh yeah, forgot about that.
I can’t care how it looks.
I need his version of calm.
Well. I feel like crying, too.
Deep breaths.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Thirty-One
D-Day.
It feels like 5 a.m., but it’s only 4.
Grateful for a little more light this early in the morning.
Underestimating the amount of time lost by all of this driving.
Trying to figure out how to receive treatments based on your potential football playoff schedule and the non-league basketball games that can be missed. Maybe this one week in late December? The sports med receptionist doesn’t seem surprised by this.
There are certain things about the suburbs that I miss.
Do I really want to go? I need to go.
They’ll come around.
Talkative today.
Dunks.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Thirty
Fall back.
Not only did I remember how to change the clock on the stove, but I also figured out how to switch it back from French to English.
Grateful for technology that lets me do my grocery shopping while sitting down.
Warm in the sun, so cool in the shade.
Only one cookie today. Just one.
Underwhelmed.
Wrong day, but it means I get to make the call.
“Are you living? Or are you existing?”
I hear Christmas music coming from the room. I think about how few of these are left. They call me up to the room. “I only have two more of these left; I’ve got to make the most of it,” he says. “Well, I’ll probably come home for the holidays.” “Probably?” she says. “I mean, I most likely will.”
Tomorrow.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Twenty-Nine
Not enough sleep.
I keep adding to the list.
Looks like someone didn’t get the memo.
I notice that the sign is taped over a plaque, and it’s a little thing that says a lot.
The dunks are fun to see, but watching teams get blown out by 50 and 60 points is not.
More tri-tip sandwiches.
Standing in front of a box of cookies for 10 hours and only eating two is an accomplishment.
She says that the shrimp and grits are on their way out. “Have I been looking at my watch that much,” I say.
“Make decisions from the perspective of who you want to become.”
Crawling into bed.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Twenty-Eight
Finally Friday.
I think I hear her playing Christmas music in the bathroom.
Lots of decaf to keep my fingers warm.
A long overdue lunch. Olivia Brion Pinot Noir. Fried olives. Gnochetti. Cookies.
How do you escape the hamster wheel?
There are still possibilities.
What if I just give them what they want instead of trying to convince them that this is what they need?
We look at each other with one of those knowing looks.
Not sure how I thought we could write on paper in the rain. This will be an even longer night.
Lights out again. Some accident somewhere this time. Almost the whole town is without power. What a way to finish up your last game at home.
So, so cold. So, so wet.
It’s almost time.