The Cashew and the Avocado

November 16th, 2016

I’ve been having the oddest dreams lately, mostly involving my cats. Often, they are dressed ridiculously (in these dreams). Tabby as a cashew nut or some candied pecan, Batman as an avocado. Batman paces back and forth, growling even after he eats. I suspect he wishes to lead a populist movement, though he may have to start by convincing the baby birds who nest on the window ledge that joining may not be a bad idea. Tabby has learned to grin, and her deliberate winking scares me. I gave her an old work shirt that no longer fits me. She sleeps on it each night.

One thing I must remark on are the questions. They’re no longer asked. I got two cats and now I’m exempt from inquiries as to why I don’t push a stroller down a sidewalk hosting lazily scattered leaves. My chest does not hurt so much, though my joints ache. My feet and ankles go sore the longer I walk. Unfortunately, ASMR videos involving the feet have little to no effect on me. I don’t really think I should be mentioning this anymore. Things could certainly be worse. Hell, I work from home now.

Combine freelance writing and insomnia, and I find myself building an archive of outrageous Dr. Phil episodes and documentaries on high profile court cases. I wasn’t paying attention when Jodi Arias did a headstand when she thought the country wouldn’t see. Now, I’m intrigued, perhaps motivated to continue with some silly outline I drafted at age fifteen, about religion and prostitution. My friends at the time were honest, and told me my ideas sucked.

Around five in the morning, I wrote a short story. I finished at ten. Looked it over, and sent it to a journal I thought was most appropriate. Finished several articles on employment law and went through some drafts of stories I could build upon. All these deadlines fall in late November or early December.

Looking out the window, I admit I’m not too good at predicting the weather. The climate of this morning’s story is bitingly cold, how I’d like it. I walked outside to buy milk, the brightness advising me that my preferences would not be accommodated. At least for today.


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