What I want
11:15 a.m. - 2004-08-09
I don�t want to be at work today. I want to be at home, or a quiet place, with my notebook and that gel pen I �found� in the key holder thing in my sister�s kitchen. It writes really nice, that�s why I kept it. I don�t want to be filling out stupid vouchers and faxing them and making copies and putting them in Nellie�s box. Instead, I want to fill the white space between the light blue lines on my notebook with words that make up the stories that will be laid out on the 55# stock paper for my first book. That�s what I�m shooting for these days.
I want to take off this stupid bra that is gripping onto the hot pink flesh on my back. It feels like an Indian burn on my back. Instead, I want to be wearing that bleach stained Navy blue t-shirt that I wore to bed last night.
I want to call some Chinese restaurant and have them deliver my food in those white cardboard containers with a silver wire handle. I�ll give the delivery guy a good tip because he got it there really fast and he flirted with me even though I was wearing the t-shirt described earlier and my hair had cow licks because it desperately needed to be cut so I chose not to comb it.
By the time the late afternoon rolls around, I�ll settle in to take a nap in front of the television. I�ll deserve it too because I�ll have written an entire story, so I need to let it rest. After the afternoon news, I�d go back and edit some of the stuff I wrote in Mexico and things I�ve written in the past. It won�t be easy but after reading some pieces several times out loud, I�ll find things to fix.
By the time dinnertime rolls around, I�ll eat some of my left over Chinese and take a shower. I�ll plop in front of the television for another nap but decide I�d rather sleep. Just as I get settled in, Dan the Man walks through the front door. He�d been out of town, reporting on a football game. We hadn�t seen each other in two days. He says he�s fine with eating leftover Chinese and so we sit at the kitchen table. He makes me a cup of hot chai tea while he warms up the leftovers because he doesn�t like to eat things cold like me.
Over his meal, I tell him about the story I wrote and he tells me it sounds great. He tells me about the football game. I don�t tell him I heard him on the radio so that he doesn�t feel like I don�t care, but I mention it to him later.
When he�s done eating, we sit outside on the porch swing watching night take over. He puts his arm around me and I rest my head on his chest. When the mosquitoes begin to feast on my legs, we head inside.
He goes to take a shower as I get into bed and read a little. When he comes out of the shower, we make love and fall asleep next to each other.
Getting linked and saying adios - 2005-01-28
What's going on... - 2005-01-26
Fixed - 2005-01-21
Sex ed - 2005-01-19
And still on the same subject - 2005-01-18
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