Saturday Morning

I’ve been up since seven-thirty, and I finally get out of bed around eight-thirty. I wasn’t even thinking about anything. It’s just that deep fog you have when you’re lying down. Your room, the blanket, the pillows–everything just doesn’t seem real. But, I eventually mustered enough motivation to get myself out of bed and dressed for my other job, the one that I’m thinking of quitting. Sure, the “extra” money is nice, but quite honestly, some other kid needs that retail job more than I do. It’ll be nice to get Saturday mornings back. I’ll probably just give them the two weeks notice today–they’ll need me for the Holidays, but after that, I think that they can manage without me.

Right now, at this moment, I find myself eating breakfast in my family room, in front of the computer. The the sunlight’s painting bright strips on the hardwood floor. It’s remarkably quiet. Even Connecticut Avenue, just outside my window, seems to be cooperating this morning.

The computer desk is not the most comfortable place to eat, but seeing as how I don’t own a table or even chairs–it’ll do. Strange how you can live in an apartment for four years and not actually acquire any real furniture. One of these days, I’ll have to fix that.

Maybe two Saturdays from now.