Today is a grey day. It feels like a December day. Cool dampness from the rain yesterday and fog.
Even waking up to the sound of laughing rug rats doesn’t bring on the spirit of the season. Christmas songs are starting to fill the airways with the promise of more to come. With the election over and only news of the disaster when they call my name, I turn to the familiar sites to try and find something worth commenting about or even entertaining. Even an unexpected chat with a giant crush but she doesn’t know it does not brighten the day.
So the usual excuse to move makes me venture into the fog. The air is clammy and anything but inviting to do another project. Perhaps the fog is that in every frame of life’s movie there are other projects to do. Even the ones that have been hidden and almost forgotten are still there. Perhaps the overwhelming thoughts that make the three-hour naps with tossing and turning tolerable continue the fog.
As if the day’s dimmer is on, the routine continues. The garland and twinkling lights try to brighten the season but it feels like dusk instead of noon. A few folks are out walking and you can tell it is the season by their colorful wild sweaters. A pretty blond walks by with a smile and a dog on a string and two sisters cross the street. They are probably going in to make Christmas cookies or baking while sharing a bottle of Chianti before moving into the evening with rum balls and whiskey shots. I don’t know if they are really doing that, but that is my story for today. More rug rats on scooters playing a war game. At least it is not a video game. My thoughts go back to a time when Bill and I would get all out soldiers out of cigar boxes and playing on the steps. I guess little boys must play war. Past the old house where the lady who was always asking for help lived but I guess she croaked because it is gutted, two women walking a dog stop and peer in the windows. A father and son in shorts toss a ball out in the middle of the street oblivious to anything around them.
Locking up at the store I survey the ever-moving parking lot. The poor guy who parked his massive metal monster in a space on reserved for normal size mobile machine and can’t open his door to get out.
Grabbing my poor old ripped bag I follow the parade into the consumption circus. Today is not as good as yesterday with eye candy but all the other regulars are there. The usual shopping list of peanuts, seed, crappy chicken tenders, a couple cans of soup and a Paul Newman’s thin and crispy Supreme frozen pizza. Can someone live off of pizza and beer? Suppose there had never been an Eve? The world would just be a big Delta House.
Spreading out the feast for the yard apes, it is settling back to watch but mostly listen to the constant chatter about the guys in the white shirts against the guys in the orange shirts.
Perhaps I should take the wash in tomorrow before it piles up? Perhaps I should get into the crowds and buy some new jeans instead of wearing my old dirt covered jeans to court? Perhaps buy a new pair of shoes and throw away the ones I’ve been wearing since last winter? Perhaps shave and take a shower? Perhaps look to see if there is a cheap PC this season? Perhaps I’ll change the battery in the power box so it will stop beeping? Well I did take out the trash.
These grey days cloud my motivation. Just another foggy day in just another life.