April 11th, 2021

caillebotte_man at his window

Reset Nineteen, Day Eleven

I nodded off at the computer again and then thought, well, I'll just go take a nap until midnight or so, and then I looked at the clock and saw that midnight had already passed and Saturday was gone. Sometimes time will mug you and take everything you've got, but there are subtler criminals, sneakthiefs who steal away with hours themselves, and all that's in them, so when you realize your pockets have been picked and your watch is gone you stand there like somebody who missed the last bus in a strange town, and you don't know just where you are or how you got there, or what to do next.

Disconcerted and disgruntled with myself I went outside and sat in the back yard's cool night air to try to wake myself up, but in my thoughts I'm still wandering through unknown streets finding nothing familiar. I thought about the frogs I used to hear, and the owls, and the scent of jasmine in the night air, but that was in May, wasn't it? What did April smell like? New grass, maybe, and pine resin. It hardly seems real, now. My back yard just smells of damp decay, as I finally remembered to water it Saturday evening, and the leaves I never raked up but simply hosed against the low retaining wall are still wet. Maybe there's a faint hint of exhaust fumes from the nearby freeway, where the traffic continues later on Saturday nights. These are not comforting smells.

It's about time I tried to sleep again, but in the bed. Armless chairs are no place to drop off.


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