I took the day off.
I figured I deserved it.
Long weekend, lots of things going on, I wanted some down time.
I don't even remember what down time is.
Ha ha ha, what's new? :)
NOT running, don't start chewing my butt, I swear I didn't run.
As much as I wanted to.
I just wanted to run until it felt like my legs were going to fall off.
Run and run and run.
Until the soles of my shoes wore thin and my lungs were going to burst.
But I walked.
I know I walked quickly, I could see the world passing me by.
But inside it felt as though I were walking through quicksand.
Slow, agonizing, never getting anywhere, stuck.
Shower, laundry, clean out the kitchen cabinets, clean out the refrigerator, clean out and defrost the freezer.
Write a short story, write a rant about my brother and his inability to get over the girl who uses him, write two reports for work, write a letter that I will never send, write another that I did send to a Rehab shelter for a friend, write until my fingers went numb.
Until the sun was up and warm enough to lie in.
Put on some pants, because you can't lie around your backyard in an Oxford button up and panties unless you want the neighbors to talk.
Lie on the hammock.
Bask in the sun.
Feeling the heat of it warm you through the cool breeze.
Keats, some more of Capote, faxes that were work related, emails from the laptop.
Do the USA Today crossword.
Do the Arkansas Democrat Gazette crossword.
Start writing again.
But I can't think of anything to write.
Nothing that makes sense.
Nothing that hasn't been beat to death.
So I write lyrics.
I make myself remember old songs.
I write all the lyrics I can remember to New Kids on the Block, Ani Difranco, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Jethro Tull, Merle Haggard, Metallica, Live, Dido.
Start reading again.
Hammock swinging slightly beneath me.
The scent of my neighbor's freshly mown lawn.
How did she mow it without my hearing it?
I was in my own world.
I never heard anything but my own thoughts.
The world could have fallen around my ears and I wouldn't have heard it.
I can't lie here anymore.
I have to get up.
I have to move.
I clean out my closet.
The linen closet.
My bathroom cabinets.
My garage storage room.
I curse myself for detailing my vehicle Saturday, when it's one more thing I could have done today.
I remember I didn't take my medicine.
It slipped my mind.
It would explain the need to throw up every four minutes.
It would also explain the headache.
I force pills down my throat and a Diet Pepsi to get the taste out.
God, is it only noon.
It can't be only noon.
It's been days.
It's been weeks.
Months have passed.
Yesterday was a year ago.
Sweet Jayzus, why can't I relax.
Why can't I enjoy downtime.
There are no question marks because these aren't really questions.
Poker is on TV.
I love poker.
I put in my favorite Razorback game.
Can you believe how many OT's we had?
I mute it and listen to the stereo.
While sorting files.
Matt Jones sucks.
Just in case you wondered.
I'm writing this in my head.
Now it's in my fingers.
Stream of consciousness rolling onto the keyboard.
The laptop on the files.
The game on the TV.
The songs on the stereo.
The things on my mind.
Nothing comes out.
Do you have days like this?