could say. Hear Emma crying upstairs, Alice not feeling well… rain outside. This could be a night. I sit on floor, legs out and crossed with laptop over lap. Listening to what rain does fall, either from sky or down the drains on the sides of the nearby houses. The laptop nearly didn’t open when I entered my new code or password and I thought, “You fucker. Don’t do this to me.” Finally it opened. But I could swear that Tuesday was still set on sinking its goddamn fangs into me.
Hear Alice coughing, I message up, if she needs help, no response, so I sit here writing feeling guilty— useless husband with his laptop and writings that circle themselves like cognition with attention deserts. Could use more of that Pinot, the one I opened last night and barely had a glass of. No more crying from Emma, which means Alice feeds her, which only drastically elevates my guilt. Yeah, I need a glass. Sip it fast. Return to the keys’ cast.
Stopping for a second I hear a herd of frogs somewhere outside, then Alice cough, the those croaks. Is there a creek nearby? Shouldn’t I know that? Rain, back. Then gone. Then again audible just to fuck with me. I get frustrated, “I’m having that wine NOW.” I say to myself but unable to pull self from keys. The semester coming up will see this writer and teacher and fiery speaker sequence in his meant chapters.
The day ends the way I want it to. Bugger off, Tuesday! Sip wine, come back to writing spot, feel full from the tacos Alice made. The Pinot taking on more of a dark and ghostly dote than I remember it campaigning last night. Day, done. Rain, tomorrow hopefully to certain sun.