Saturday

I did not sleep in this morning

as I had told myself I would

before turning in last night.

For one thing I am too old

to sleep in anymore, anyway, and

I roll out early no matter what,

and, no matter what, I take a nap about midday

everyday ordinarily for about half an hour

enjoying the cheap luxury of not giving a hoot.

At night, you might ask, are you in bed ordinarily by around

nine and I would answer yes. pretty much, as I have no TV

and you might wish to ask if my days are always this dull.

Oh, they've been this way pretty much for several years now...

before the politicians cramped our daily styles, trying their best

to keep a crashing economy from crushing their benefactors--

--and to save lives, of course! Oh my, nearly forgot...oh,

I did not. Trying to be cute here, as I have no TV to

confuse and accuse and amuse and enthuse and infuse

me with sponsored consensus, which I would accept only

if it agreed with my circumstances of comfort or aspirations, and

avoided agitating my irritations, or a particular one of my friends

by NOT CONSTANTLY SAYING EXISTENTIALISM!!

which wouldn’t bother me particularly unless I heard it

more than once an hour, or, upon reflection, every few days.

Where were we...oh, yeah, I was thinking to explain why

I’d decided to sleep in this morning, and why, upon reflection,

I am feeling somewhat remiss for not walking as usual

with my walking buddy, who’s stuck in her home teaching

university classes via the World Wide Web while

I’m stuck in my apartment trying to write what looks like poems.

Weather experts last night forecast a 14% chance of rain for

this morning, and although I knew the chance of this was

as good as my recollection now of the 14%, the odds were close

enough to affirm my body’s desire to start the day out a little

differently than the usual up, Facebook, out, walk walk walk

Facebook, breakfast, vitamins, legal pharmaceuticals, shower

Facebook, curse Zuckerberg, thank Zuckerberg, etc. etc.--

why does it seem necessary always to do two etceteras

when, as per the outhouse sign, my mother told me, one will do?

Rolling out this morning an hour earlier than the usual five, and

shuffling into what the British call the water closet to pee

I noticed it was so dark out I could not see if the promised

raindrops were pockety pocketying on the usual puddle outside

the northwest window which, if they were, I could sleep in

without remorse, and start my day without the walk walk walk.

At this point I became annoyed, with the weather experts

and with the rain god or gods for forcing me to step outside

to see for myself there were no raindrops or even puddles.

Really pissed now that I had based my anticipated sleep-in

on unreliable scientific prognostication, albeit knowing

the inherent unpredictability of atmospheric gamboling

I hissed to myself, to hell with it, and climbed back under

the covers for that extra hour of what should have been

blissful sleep, except my irritation interfered, and here I am.

                                                                                                                                   m.d. paust