It began early, at 7:30AM. The stomp and scrape of the contruction workers on the roof of my apartment building. Numerous thumps spoke ominously of an impending cave-in, and I feverishly tried to picture the achitectural state of the Victorian ceiling vibrating a few feet from my suddenly fragile skull.
They had worked the morning before, bright and early, scraping paint or something with what sounded like a chainsaw.
But with the stomping morning, my sleep withered away at the thought of my skull-crushed corpse on the morning news. My mother would be quite vexed at the sight of that. So I eventually dragged myself out of bed, amid my roommate's foot-strangling cats. In short I was dressed, for better or worse, and even shaven.
I enter my truck, turn the engine on, only it does quite turn so much as let out a long and tawdry belch of bored indifference. It then snuffled back to sleep, despited my repeated twists of the key and incvocations of unprintable gods.
The car was not going to start, and I had probably flooded the engine. Better yet, I was parked in a metered spot that was going to get street cleaned any moment (for which I would be graced with a $65 dollar parking ticket). Better yet, I had no time to get a jump, let alone change out the battery, because I was, ironically, late for work.
The work day wasn't so bad, despite attending a press event that I should have wrapped up in an hour and a half at most and ended up staying at for five. Then I got home and found out I was in negative withdrawal at my bank, on account of having gotten my deliciously traitorous truck out of hock in the first place.
Thank god for beer and other intoxicants.
....
So now it's about an hour after I wrote the above, and I'm reminded of how easy it can be to miss something that repeatedly stares you in the face. All my favorite SG girls have brunette hair! Although I have a sneaking suspicion that Margot might be a redhead. I'll let it slide.
They had worked the morning before, bright and early, scraping paint or something with what sounded like a chainsaw.
But with the stomping morning, my sleep withered away at the thought of my skull-crushed corpse on the morning news. My mother would be quite vexed at the sight of that. So I eventually dragged myself out of bed, amid my roommate's foot-strangling cats. In short I was dressed, for better or worse, and even shaven.
I enter my truck, turn the engine on, only it does quite turn so much as let out a long and tawdry belch of bored indifference. It then snuffled back to sleep, despited my repeated twists of the key and incvocations of unprintable gods.
The car was not going to start, and I had probably flooded the engine. Better yet, I was parked in a metered spot that was going to get street cleaned any moment (for which I would be graced with a $65 dollar parking ticket). Better yet, I had no time to get a jump, let alone change out the battery, because I was, ironically, late for work.
The work day wasn't so bad, despite attending a press event that I should have wrapped up in an hour and a half at most and ended up staying at for five. Then I got home and found out I was in negative withdrawal at my bank, on account of having gotten my deliciously traitorous truck out of hock in the first place.
Thank god for beer and other intoxicants.
....
So now it's about an hour after I wrote the above, and I'm reminded of how easy it can be to miss something that repeatedly stares you in the face. All my favorite SG girls have brunette hair! Although I have a sneaking suspicion that Margot might be a redhead. I'll let it slide.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
chris_sick:
Nice profile image.
sadpanda:
Thanks -- too bad I can't take credit for it, though. I just found it on the Interweb and tweaked it a little in Photoshop.