Drugs, Poisons and Kickball
Today was a rather strange Sunday afternoon. Rather typical as my Sundays have been lately, I wake up with a complete lack of motivation to get out of bed. Most people might wake up and turn on the television to distract them while they continue to lounge. I’m not that, I guess. I don’t have a television. I lay awake as the sounds of the city rock me gently; alone with my thoughts. Motivation is an interesting thing, or perhaps it’s a fantastic drug.
So the weekend was altogether ho-hum. It was a bit different than how it usually is, and I guess I should be grateful. I’m always looking to get to a state of normalcy. Some people want constant excitement, I want a bit of excitement sprinkled in with a routine of doing things I love.
That doesn’t mean today wasn’t strange. I just drank a glass of expired milk. I ate the most bitter, probably rotted, piece of napa cabbage ever, and I played kick-ball. At least I was somewhat productive. I spent some time at the laundry mat, and it was good. Good Bye June, good riddance.
So the weekend was altogether ho-hum. It was a bit different than how it usually is, and I guess I should be grateful. I’m always looking to get to a state of normalcy. Some people want constant excitement, I want a bit of excitement sprinkled in with a routine of doing things I love.
That doesn’t mean today wasn’t strange. I just drank a glass of expired milk. I ate the most bitter, probably rotted, piece of napa cabbage ever, and I played kick-ball. At least I was somewhat productive. I spent some time at the laundry mat, and it was good. Good Bye June, good riddance.