homecoming


Friday at last. Still some formatting issues I need to clear up with the blog’s new look, but haven’t had time. Mostly I want to change the recent comments styles, and some other sidebar issues in general. But, as I said, I’m happy enough to roll with it for now. Sharaun flexed her hospitality tonight and served a nice outdoor for friends. It was nice, and I really enjoyed it. In fact…

I’ve noticed something wonderful happening to me lately. Every day, as I get in my car to head home from the old sawmill, my attitude begins to turn. I mean, despite my day – its busyness, its stress and its tension, its race-the-clock mind-tangling multitasking – the thought of being imminently home turns my head right around.

Today, for instance, was mind-numbingly busy, and the work wasn’t easy… it required a lot of thinking, and by 5pm my brain was stretched and weary. I was frustrated, I was tired, and I was a little zombified. But, as I got into the car and thought about tossing Keaton around on the couch watching her smile and hearing her squeal… my cares started to fade. Who cares about work? Who cares about schedules and to-dos and responsibilities? You can take all that and poop it right out of your butthole, that’s what you can do.

My mind is almost always wandering. For me, my devoted attention is a rare thing. Usually, I only give this when I’m 1) in love with you (overtly or covertly), 2) drunk enough to be carefree, or 3) genuinely and intently interested in you and your story. I know this is a dickish trait, but it’s me. So, I’m almost always daydreaming, thinking, meandering, making up little imaginary scenarios, etc. So, sometimes, when I’m sitting there talking to you, I’ll hang my left arm over the side of the couch, or the back of the chair, or whatever. I’ll hang it just so, so that the bloodflow is cutoff high up near my armpit. I’ll watch my hand mottle and feel my fingers tingle as my circulation slows. I’ll look for the color to change under my fingernails, and my hand to feel thick and dumb. Then, I’ll imagine my left arm is numb because I’m having a heart attack. I’ll pretend to watch my life flash by my eyes, pretend to wonder why I didn’t go for more jogs, take more long walks, get a gym membership.

Man, you realize I linked to my 98th blog in this entry? This is my 1,310th. Don’t be so impressed, it’s not entirely sequential, and there are less posts (788, to be precise). Still, that was over 900 entries ago… and I like that.

Goodnight.


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