You Can't Make Me

I didn't feel like doing anything today, so I didn't. Let it roll on by. Just pretend - it's two weeks ago. It just can't be?

Missy meowed me hello this morning. It doesn't quite make up for 30 years old, university educated, Italian heritage. I turn my computer on first thing, before I do any thing, maybe that's why I've only got a cat?

I'm supposed to be seeing Lottie, oh, about 2 hours ago. I thought I could, at least, make it up to Jill with lunch today, before I drive up to Bolago.

Nope. Nothing. I haven't even had a shower. My feet are cold. It doesn't look as though I'm driving any where.

Responsibilities? No, I wouldn't say that I have any. No responsibilities, no one cares?

I got the mechanic to tell me I could drive my car safely, the smoke problem could wait until the next service. All I've done from my "must get done on holidays" things to do list. And that wasn't even fixed, that was just buying time.

It's going to be over that quickly. click of the fingers. Holidays are just like that, wait and see.

The finger clicking sound has stop echoing. I'm just on a normal weekend, now. I haven't even got a clean shirt.

Some hours later... after aborted attempts at cleaning the house, do washing, watering the garden, going to the shops, twice, ignoring the phone, three times.

Lottie will be disappointed, another night on her own.

Mark's disappointed, he just called.

I just don't know what to do with myself. Ever got that feeling that you wanted to leave, just when you decided you want to stay. Feeling to leave. Decision to stay. Leave. Stay.

There I am some where in the middle, spinning, standing still. Getting nothing done. Mastering the lot.

James Brown sings, It's A Man's Man's Man's World.