The Bloody Doors Off

Today was as jumbled as any other.

I don’t even bother trying to sleep in on the weekend; it’s not gonna happen no matter how hard I try. And before 11:30 I’d completed the job from my client and moving towards a shower and laundry.

(Had time for 2 cups of coffee too. Luxury.)

Had tried to get in touch with my mum for Mother’s Day. Turns out she was in Tillsonburg attending a funeral.

Got a ton of laundry done, including the new bed sheets. It feels odd to think that I’m excited to crawl into bed tonight. And then it was 2:30 and I was on a bus to Fairview Mall to get my jeans and ended up picking up a few things at Sears. Then down to the neighbourhood for groceries; get all that shit unloaded at home and then up to Square Boy for take-out. ‘Cuz after the day I had, I damn well deserved some rotisserie chicken.

And they said the roaster wouldn’t be done for 30 minutes.

The day was proving that it wouldn’t sync to my schedule.

So I did the oddest thing.

I adjusted to it.

Ordered a beer and sat on their patio. For 30 minutes, I did nothing but hit my e-cigarette, sip a beer, and basked in the sunshine.

What I don’t know is, was it my idea to finally stop and breathe, or did God or the universe step in and touch me on the shoulder, with a whisper: do nothing; it’s okay.

Either way. Does it matter?