I believe that my humiliation has conspired with the threads of destiny and the Fates that weave them to set a metronome into motion to measure my embarrassments because they come with such regular rhythm, and sometimes fit together with such alarming and alacritous coincidence that it seems bigger than me. Let me take you back a couple of nights ago. I had spilled steaming hot tea on my upper thigh area because I was trying to tackle the world of three hands with two hands, and found those efforts to be lacking. This incident led me to don a pair of black running shorts for bed. Before bed, I vowed to another human that I was determined to sleep my sleep in the deepest of sleeps and to force that sleep to last, to not drip dry, until eleven the next morning. 6:58 the next morning, and a phone call caused my phone to growl a series of violent rattles in the shoe next to me. The device vibrated until I awoke. It was a call alerting me to the fact that a couple of the dogs had escaped the environs of their backyard, their home and necessary prison. I pulled on a black tee shirt, and pulled on my black sneakers, and drove off to hunt my willful prey. I found them loping along the road near the high school, traipsing the landscape, wet and muddy, like scavengers combing the post-apocalyptic landscape for food and gasoline. I pulled over amidst the rumble-tumble school buses and cars to usher the woolly beasts into my vehicle. I realized then, as I was getting out, that I was dressed as a man in black, but a man in black if he were going out of his way to contrast the achingly white hue of his skin against the darkest shirt and pair of shorts he could find. I got back home, slathered in wet, muddy, post-apocalyptic dog filth, and it wasn’t even 7:30 yet. Tomorrow/today, I vow to wake up at 5:30 in the morning. (Shhh… that’s reverse psychology).
Posted on: Sat, 07 Sep 2013 08:26:54 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015