Tuesday, August 28, 2012


i will always do this until i'm no longer sleep deprived, and i'm too tired to work out an equation as to when that might be...

i get the time screwed up.

i have 8:30 in my head. something needs to happen by 8:30 on the days of my new class.  without thinking, i am confident that i must leave the house, absolutely no later than 8:30... until i find myself leaving the house at 8:38 and i suddenly do the math and realize i have 22 minutes to cycle to the guys' school, pry henry from me, as he is now no longer happy to see me go after a week of vacation, give a quick, yet caring goodbye to william, get across town, park my bike, walk into the building and up the stairs, into my classroom, waiting like a good student for class to begin at 9 a.m.

as i'm prying henry from me at 8:55, i'm confident i will be late.

i bike quickly.

i see a guy ahead of me turn into a pedestrian entrance to a parking lot, from the sidewalk, something another bicyclist had done yesterday.  "there must be a trick," i thought.  "they're cutting the corner.  i'll do it too."

but from the bike path to the sidewalk there is a little curb.  i'm going fast and i don't turn my tire as much as i should and so the right side of me is suddenly in an intimate meeting with the sidewalk.  my first bike spill, six months in.  i get up quickly. i'm still in a hurry.  i think that my fall must be eons better than going over the handlebars or meeting a car or both.  the only injury being a large scrape under my right elbow.

i arrive at class at 9:07.


here is something else i repeat...

"the owner's trying to sell it, but i don't think he's trying to actively sell it.  there's no sign out front.  i don't think the realtor is going to hold regular open houses or anything."

this is something i tell katie (houseguest!) today.

two hours later i'm on the phone... "this is blah blah blah, the realtor... i'm wondering if i can show the house to someone tomorrow at 11."

he comes to pick up the key.  "well," i say.  "i hope they like it... but not so much that they want to buy it... we just moved in... cleaned and painted the whole thing...

....you can tell them it's new paint," i say as i hand him the key.

as much as i had to be dragged into this house, i can't fathom moving out right now.  how would it all work?  too tired to figure it out.

i'll go to bed and think about it tomorrow.

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