Let Me Tell You A Story

Tinashe Zvakasikwa - Allow Me To Tell You A Story

Drink coffee, but not the kind that says “Sleepytime” because it’s just 1:40 p.m. Watch Broadchurch season 3, ep three and promise myself I won’t rewind it when I don’t understand what the Scottish dude is talking about. I turn up the volume just enough not to annoy the neighbours. I miss chunks of the conversation and realize it doesn’t matter. I rebuke myself because I should be writing instead.

I read five pages of this new book. Put it down. Continue to feel unprolific. Pour a glass of milk meant for tomorrow’s breakfast. Decide I can buy another one tomorrow. Shiver in my chair because the heater doesn’t heat my apartment quickly enough, and I’m too lazy to get a blanket. Anguish about the gouge I made in my cellphone glass yesterday. Refresh Twitter feed. 

Refresh Twitter feed again. Google my blog. Decide I have two years to become successful. Rub myself out of the chair to pour a second glass of milk. Wish I had children. Google how old Thomas Sankara was when he died. Resolve I have five more years to become successful. Reprimand myself because that PR agent never replied to the best article I have ever written – top off my milk glass.

I go to the loo to pee; I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I decide whether it’s time to put on pyjamas or go to the closest McDonald’s and interact with people. Shower. Put on pyjamas. Brush my fine hair. Wish I had locks. Wish I were younger. Check the clock: 9:24. Clean the dishes. Decide it’s early enough to drink more tea. This time make the kind that says “Sleepytime.” 

Consider taking out the garbage bin. I end up not going out because it’s cold, and I can’t handle 10 degrees. Rebuke myself for only publishing two essays this week. Pee two more times because I drank the whole bottle of milk and two cups of hot tea in the last six hours. Feel feeble. Ponder my worth as a human being. 

Return to my comfy chair. I take a blanket this time. Wish I hadn’t watched all of Ozark season 3 already. Press play on the next episode of Blacklist. Strain to catch all the dialogue, miss 30% of it and wonder if it’s too early to go to bed. Refresh my Twitter feed again…

One of those days…

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