April 10th, 2011

I’ve barely made my peace with Sunday but with the sun higher in the sky, i’m willing to call a truce. Soon I’ll drag a battered, blue vinyl deck chair into place and unfold it from its winter paralysis. Lay a towel on it its weathered plastic straps and stretch out. I’m trusting Sunday to live up to it’s reputation as a listless, life sucking day but with the sun out and my skin warm, my mind can rest easy for a while. No doubt it’ll cloud up. Theres soaking rain on the way for Monday. But right now my face has a burn working its way into the skin of my cheeks from just driving back home with the sun roof open.

My realtor had an Open House at my home today. I need to sell my house because i want to downsize life to something more manageable. Caring for a house takes time and I’m not so sure i want to take the time to do that anymore. So selling makes sense. A houseboat in Fort Lauderdale makes sense. A smaller living space makes sense. But a house for one guy to roam around in alone makes nonsense.

While my home was being shown, I drove to the parking lot of the radio station where I work and drank coffee and wrote in my IPad. A book of fiction about a guy trying to decide whether or not to end his life. A parking lot is a good place to write about being alone, especially when the lot is empty. I consumed a large black coffee and wrote well for an hour and a half and then drove home.

This Sunday has been easier to glide into and out of than other Sundays. I’ll feel better after daylight fades completely and Sunday evening consumes everything. I’ll write and make myself busy doing nothing.

Monday mornings arrive early inside my Sunday night mind. I don’t suffer on Mondays. To me Monday is no different than any other weekday except for the guilt free zest of Friday.There’s more human drama during the work week. The imagination is expansive, optimally definitive. The workweek has a contagious, infamous energy to it.

Sunday’s an empty vessel settled into the sand of a dried up sea of expectations. I expect little from Sunday night’s menu of obvious entrees. I’ll dine on the fleeting optimism of daylight while I digest the thought of the intrusion of another Sunday night into my already eager Monday morning mind. >

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