It’s Okay to be Okay
I mean, you know, hanging in is perfectly fine
It’s icy out there, don’t want to go to work, coffee tastes like middle earth, think I sprained my throat yawning, pending knee cramp, wordle is stupd, cold feet, nothing to wear, shit hair cut.
I look like Lucy Van Pelt
Especially in the mouth area from all the complaining.
Daisy’s all weird-looking right now, too, just like The Grinch’s little dog trying to make herself invisible so I don’t take her for a walk – which I won’t – but we both know it would take only a single wipe-out, mine of course, and her mood would be greatly improved.
Sometimes it’s a better show when it’s a close call, you know, the near wipe-out, where you maintain your footing but your dignity fucks off
Lily the cat is being all clandestine over there peeking out from the closet like she’s some kind of mastermind. Did you ever see that Speilberg cartoon Pinky and The Brain? Don’t know what’s with the cartoon references but whatev, Lily’s being like both Pinky and The Brain in one weird little cat with a side of Usain Bolt which is such a perfect name it’s a little suspicious.
For the guy, I mean, not the cat.
And speaking of apt names, I went to high school with a guy named Cliff Swan who was a dancer – an outstandingly brave thing for a guy to be in those high school days – and another guy I went to high school with, Willie Featherstone, was a boxer. I remember telling him what a great name he had being a boxer and all and he turned and looked at me like it had never occurred to him before.
I am cold and unmotivated, coffee’s not working, so I am going to try a shower but won’t look as I skim naked past the mirror because the fucking edge is nigh if you know what I mean.
I’ve heard that some people age like fine wine. I age like raw milk
When I don’t feel like doing anything I start thinking about things I have done, you know, I did call the car dealership yesterday (spellcheck changed car to care the naive little sucker), I did get those two stories off somewhere in the UK although I may have missed the deadline due to not consulthe world clock I didn’t consult, I did answer Richard’s email, I did get out of bed, I did get cat littler, I didn’t eat a cake last night and it wasn’t a la mode, just like that tree that didn’t fall in the forest.
So I took the shower didn’t peek made fresh delicious coffee wipe-cleaned some pants but went with jeans instead, packed up some fruit and veg for lunch, poured a coffee-to-go, found my wallet glasses mitts umbrella backpack phone key other key presto card.
Now I am leaving late on purpose
It’s a half hour walk to the train and I’m giving myself 22 minutes and counting (backwards). I want to finish writing this before I go. I know I will have to partially sprint but it’s exciting to err on the side of recklessness and some days that’s all I need, a little err and a little recklessness. I know by the time I get on the train I’ll be huffy and puffy and overheated – and I’ll be exhilirated and hopeful, too – all because of my weird reverse-sabotage challenge which I do not necessarily recommend unless you have good shoes and a vented coat.
I mean it’s okay to be okay but if you can up your own game – and nobody can do it better than you – fucking go for it I say.
Okay I am oft!
I know Daisy will be watching me from the window, full of hope, waiting for a spectacular wipe-out.
