I traded my toga for a cow onesie
I wasn't supposed to be out in town today - it wasn't my window hours. It was ignorance of the law that did it, although, as the truism goes, that is in itself not an excuse. Having found out that I wasn't supposed to be out when I was already out, I stayed out and went to several places.
I went to the construction site where our house is being built. One workman got really long hair now, far longer than when I last saw him. I smoked with the foreman, tasting one of his bitter cigarettes and appreciating it all the same, about developments and upcoming tasks. The house is far from complete, although that didn't stop me from imagining where things - and the cat - will end up.
I went to the school my nephew was enrolled at to pay some dues. They made me sign a non-sick form before entering the empty school, and on the way back from there I took a picture of a massive empty parking lot.
In the mall I found a Venus de Milo statuette, which I promptly bought. I was sorely tempted to look for and buy a chair, realizing I can't carry one home, and that it has nowhere to fit in our rented place. I took the de Milo home, still wondering whether or not it was heavy enough for the cat to tip over. Thinking of the cat, I bought one liter of cat litter that barely fit in my backpack.
Before going back home I went to a pizza joint, where I was watching a chef make pizza as I awaited my order. Plop, plop, plop, the dough went. He was about to drizzle it with oil when a dead cockroach dripped from the oil bucket onto the dough. He folded the dough and put it aside. He didn't look at me.
I now own four onesies, two of which are cows, one nondescript furball, and one giraffe. It occurred to me, as I lay down in bed unable to sleep for all the things I saw today, that I no longer own a Master's toga. It's one of those things in your wardrobe that you use once a year and cover in plastic for the rest of it, perpetually smelling of mothballs. Ah, well. Good trade.
I went to the construction site where our house is being built. One workman got really long hair now, far longer than when I last saw him. I smoked with the foreman, tasting one of his bitter cigarettes and appreciating it all the same, about developments and upcoming tasks. The house is far from complete, although that didn't stop me from imagining where things - and the cat - will end up.
I went to the school my nephew was enrolled at to pay some dues. They made me sign a non-sick form before entering the empty school, and on the way back from there I took a picture of a massive empty parking lot.
In the mall I found a Venus de Milo statuette, which I promptly bought. I was sorely tempted to look for and buy a chair, realizing I can't carry one home, and that it has nowhere to fit in our rented place. I took the de Milo home, still wondering whether or not it was heavy enough for the cat to tip over. Thinking of the cat, I bought one liter of cat litter that barely fit in my backpack.
Before going back home I went to a pizza joint, where I was watching a chef make pizza as I awaited my order. Plop, plop, plop, the dough went. He was about to drizzle it with oil when a dead cockroach dripped from the oil bucket onto the dough. He folded the dough and put it aside. He didn't look at me.
I now own four onesies, two of which are cows, one nondescript furball, and one giraffe. It occurred to me, as I lay down in bed unable to sleep for all the things I saw today, that I no longer own a Master's toga. It's one of those things in your wardrobe that you use once a year and cover in plastic for the rest of it, perpetually smelling of mothballs. Ah, well. Good trade.
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