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Day Wasting

Day Wasting

I had one of those days that accomplished nothing in a big way. It actually takes work to do as little as I did. It requires a sustained effort. It started with an alarm that did not go off because it had not been set. Waking up naturally is a strange process. I couldn’t do it daily. It’s just too much of an ordeal with the coming in and out of dreams and wondering what time it is and deciding it doesn’t matter and falling back asleep and then finally just staring at the ceiling not wanting to know what time it is because there is no way in hell that the world has waited for you to start when the sun is that high in the sky.

There was the shower. I really put love into it. Scrubs. Razors. Oxygen masks. Hair masks. Steam. I finally got out when I’d run out of beauty procedures and then stared at a pile of fresh laundry that needed to be put away before deciding it made my loft look ‘lived in’ and that was okay. Then a small burst of OCD kicked in and I put it away and threw another load in, took out the trash and ran the dishwasher. Then I was out the door.

I put love into Urth Cafe too, just like they supposedly do to their food and their food does to us and we in turn do to the fair farming coops they buy their loving food from. It’s a good campaign. Two hours and two large coffees later I figured it was a good time to relocate my day-wasting efforts. I jumped on my bike and rode through downtown. The smell of Mexican food off of a catering cart wafted through the streets and the crowds and bad air and created a strange appeal that I had to get in on. I looked at stores that sold stuffed animals holding valentine’s hearts and spelling out Amore. How stereotypical. I loved it. The tag in the ear said he was $3, but the woman behind the counter said I had to buy 6. She pointed to a sign just behind her. Wholesale Only. I left. There are not six people in my life who would enjoy a plush French stereotype, nor are there six people in my life. Besides, I had no way of carrying them.

My bike tire was low so I stopped by the bike shop for air. It was there that I discovered a shiny new bike basket. I imagined all of the downtown treasures I could cart around with a basket like that, and jumped on it. In hindsight, the order of the day was perhaps just right, because if I’d found the shiny basket an hour earlier I’d probably have six plush frogs. While I waited for the bike man to attach the basket to my trusty steed, I walked down the block to my webmaster’s place.

Madison Scott was bringing back soda and my webmaster was serving pizza and Faye Reagan was sitting in the corner doing that sexy redhead thing that the rest of us can’t quite seem to comprehend, much less imitate. Along with Kagney Lynn Carter and Lisa Ann these are the girls I consider my web sisters. We are a part of the Brand Danger harem, meaning if you’ve joined one site, you’ve joined them all. It’s a good deal all around, unless you’re just downloading our stuff for free on tube sites, in which case it’s a good deal only for you. People never feel like they’re stealing when there’s a middleman.

We talked porn. I ridiculed my webmaster’s new lamp with the ram’s horns and his shaved cats and he retaliated by sweet talking more junk food onto my plate. Finally I had to leave before the bike shop closed or I’d be walking home, and the only thing lying between me and a brisk winter walk home is skid row.

Once home I cancelled my gym appt. and blamed it on dinner plans while justifying it in my head because of the hours I’d spent with my bike, conveniently forgetting that most of that time had been spent eating pizza and mexican cart food. I sat down at the computer and responded to emails, then other emails, all while toggling back and forth between the window opened to Twitter. Somehow I ended up on Amazon. I shopped. Hours melted away. It occurred to me how little had been accomplished so I decided to bust open the old To Do list. This was about 10pm. The energy rush had hit. I was officially off the wagon.

But then I was browsing the pet section of Craigslist. There was a cute potty trained rabbit that I briefly contemplated adding to my brood before realizing that I still needed to clean up after the two I have. There was a strange post on the trouble with giraffes (turns out they’re evil and bent on world domination). Next thing I knew I’d been sucked into the activities section and was reading with ardent fascination about speed dating while I adjusted my world view to the addition of yet another thing that happens in real life and not just movies. I would love to audit this speed dating thing. I don’t want to be graded on participation but I definitely want to know what it’s all about. It’s been awhile since I came home with some meaty sort of life experience worth talking about.


This chair is my favorite chair for not doing things on.

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