mind, migrate that to business.  Sip latte, fuck rest.  Write for a little bit longer, enjoy a long shower, listen to some jazz, and fuck it why not have more coffee.  Drive to the office with unusual confidence and walk in with even more.

And a colorful carelessness about me at well.  Fearless.  And what do I have to fear?

NO-THING.

Not with this intensity of gratitude.

Nurse and I messaging each other while she drives, voicing her jokes and sweet words to me here in the loft.  I lift my head to stare out the window where the deck is, again feeling gratitude and a feeling of being stunned.  I remember dreaming about this, years ago.

When in a different life…

That one day I’d be free, and have a loft in which to write and wake early and enjoy coffee with no disruption or haranguing.

And now I’m here.  Imagine that.  Why the fuck would I want to take a nap.  If I sleep, I forfeit this.  This time, my time and I won’t do that…

Like a released prisoner, with nice floors and a kitchen that would make your mother envious.  Seriously, how am I here?  How is this my home?  Our home I mean, the Nurse’s and mine.

07:08