The gentleman that sold me my bedtime six pack remembered me. After years. And after without a thought between the either of us regarding the other. It’s been a while, he said. You moved? I told him I did. Funny thing, the timing of questions.
The thought of there being nothing left for the day occured. Awful thing. I have since ignored it. At least for a little while longer. It is down to ragged scraps over here. Maybe always was. The radio rattles on in the other room. I didn’t turn it off. Just turned it down. It’s an…
9:46am Progress was made yesterday, despite the appearance of chaos when unlocking my door. Returning from work little more than an hour ago, suspicions were confirmed. The recent rain made a less than modest puddle on the kitchen floor. I need the fuck out of this place.
Paradigm shift. That’s the phrase floating about this old skull, as of late. Been putting my things into boxes. I’ll be moving at the end of the month. First time in six years. Nowhere to go, yet. No place of my own, at least. First time that’s happened in ten years.