Yesterday. The poem:
The fourth of July is one of my favorite holidays.
Reading a comic that includes some of my favorite superheroes.
Obsession with thieves stealing anything that wasn't tied down.
Diligently cleaning a barbecue grill.
Grilled mushrooms and corn, thoughts of future pineapples.
Sat in the light to hopefully achieve somewhat of a tan.
Mirroring sippy cups with my niece. I with a mocha frappuccino and she with water.
A stroller that I couldn't close, left outside for someone else to figure it out.
Remnants of the story:
My niece is suppose to be napping but instead she is making baby noises and walking around in her crib. I would rather clean 5 barbecue grills than put this baby to sleep. I don't have the patience and stamina. But, something in me wants to pick her up and play with her right now. Even if it is just slowly rocking her. I do not because this is the designated sleeping hour. Even if the only people who are sleeping are her mother and grandparents.
Besides thinking of the grill, as I was watching dishes, I also thought about those who were not able to spend this holiday with there families. I thought about the homeless guy who hangs out by my workplace. I thought about those who live on the East Coast who are in the path of a hurricane. I thought about the Boston Pops performers who had this day off, because they performed a day before, due to the storm. I wondered what they did today besides prepare for the storm. When was the last time they had this holiday off?
Today. Another Poem: I climbed a mountain in a video game.
Texted High Valyrian.
Drank a spot of tea.
Broke my fast at 10:10 AM.
Off to read Science Fiction.
