Sam leaves 7.45am. So do I. We head in different directions, at the corner. We still wave until the other one is out of sight.
I walk for an hour. Love Never Felt So Good.
I smoke pot in the garden in the sun, listening to Michael Jackson's hits, His number 1s. All the good stuff. He is a musical genius. The sun is glorious.
Sam messages me for a mid morning update. I tell him I am meditating. Shhh!
At some point, I check to see where Buddy is, his big brown eyes gaze back at me from his kennel. I say, “Oh, good lad.” Oh, he could have been on our bed. He could have been on the couch. “Good to know,” I also hear myself say. It was getting horribly close to lunch to be trying to drag him down from upstairs.
11.05am. I’m a bit wasted, still bopping to Michael Jackson, not a care, if I was really honest, he giggles as he writes that. The best we can hope for now, is leftovers. Think! Think! What did we have for dinner last night? We had crumbed chicken. It could easily be chicken and salad. I wonder. If I wasn’t so, ah... comfortable, or really cared for that matter, [chuckle] I could go and look in the fridge for clues? But really? Why? It will be what it is? That’s pretty zen, isn’t it? I can tell you, I’m feeling pretty fucken zen out in this perfect summer’s day, in the dapple sun shine.
My headphonebuds stop working.
I break out the headphones, full muff, and lose any semblance of having done anything all day, or indeed, giving a shit. I did the washing. I cleaned the kitchen. Did I clean the kitchen?
11.30am. Kitchen is clean. There is chicken curry in the fridge, I think we are saved. Going out could have been a bit of an effort.
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