April 1st

This is a Friday. Like all Fridays, it is the week’s most adorable and neat potential. Nobody else is to butt in, and I’m thrilled with anticipation.

The moment I finish work, the grey veil of duty lifts, and a part of my mind just starts piling up logs of plans and thoughts lit by impulses like shooting stars. A bonfire of probability emits light at the tunnel’s end, warmth in the dark.

March 19th

Weekend starts with the little kids upstairs howling like sirens instead of my alarms on my phone. 7:02 am. I open my eyes and ponder why they’re running around and why my hands ache again. They have a serious case of zoomies. Thump, thump, thump, thump, thumpthumbthumpthump, thump, thump.

I make coffee and counter noises. Well, I sneeze and that is totally involuntary. Thump, thump, thump, thump. A door slams upstairs. 

February 22nd

There are days, you are relieved that the hours run out, and there isn’t much more time so the day can not throw more atrocities at you. There are days you thank whichever entity you believe in, that day belongs to the past now because you did not see that coming. You did not have that coming. Isn’t your fault.

And there are days -sigh- that do not care for the linear flow of time.

March 17th

I take the call in the garden – not by choice but by necessity. Turns out, my apartment is a dead zone now. No phone signals pierce the walls. I admit I get infrequent calls, sometimes I forget people want to talk to me at all; so I do not really catch on when it happens.

I have been in the garden already and thinking about the cherry tree. Yesterday it has been flowering, and today the flowers are hiding in their buds, not ready to stretch towards the sunlight. It can be a time whim, the cherry tree’s quirk, or me only misremembering. 

March 14th

In my hallway, there is a big mirror above the sideboard. Neatly arranged, candles crowd the space under the mirror. This morning my brain does a double-take and a summersault into involuntary waking up.

I’m usually blind and deaf without my hot coffee, first thing in the morning. My perception of the apartment and the world around me is a habitual one at best. Casually, the world is used to me sleep-drunkenly navigating the space on my way to my morning deeds.

30st March

writing exercise, perfectly normal & mediocre

Morning coffee swapped for morning tea. I blinked.

First, it didn’t even register much. Blistering hot liquid was just the next best blistering hot liquid, the aftertaste made me do a double take.

I couldn’t have foreseen that turn of events. Really. One sip perfectly fine dark roasted wakey-wakey, and the next mouthfull it was peppermint tea. This was less than ideal. I needed my coffee. I wanted my coffee. The people around me needed me to have that morning coffee.

may, 31st

the perfectly normal and mediocre, writing exercise

The downpour surprised me just ten minutes away from home. It came down in sheets and I was soaked to the bones in less than two minutes. That was that with the relaxed grocery shopping. Thank God I didn’t buy fresh bread or croissants. Soggy backed goods were bad juju, I hated that. Nothing could spoil green onions, zucchinis, two pound of tomatoes, and black cherries. The cardboard package for the eggs could be a problem though. It could have been worse. Luckily, this wasn’t a hail storm.