Sleazy Saturday Musings

 

Saturday is a sleazy day of tedious tasks - laundry, marketing, vacuuming, dusting and driving one of the teen dudes to activities.  I get so snarly by the end of it because it is all not for my enjoyment.  I enviously witness the childless Millennials purchase their “lemon meringue” and “earl grey” gluten-free Beechwood donuts; I know that they don’t have to share theirs. They will slice it and sip coffee with their mates, discussing how exhausted they are after a week of virtual meetings and picking up the slack for less tech savvy senior managers.  They get to have an afternoon nap lying beside their Bengal cat and then spend the evening with their parents having a Korean BBQ take-out that they did not need to chip in for…extra $20 for some supportive mad money too. Everything in their world is relaxing and luxury love.  I will fight for a crusty blanket corner and a couple pieces of popcorn as my eyes droop and dive.  Choices.

 

11:47pm and another Saturday has said its peace, and left me empty of its rapture.  Why am I writing this now against the backdrop of the 11 year old - now defunct label - Sears Kenmore dishwasher scratching out its rhythm alongside “The Sundays” on a retro playlist?  

I want to be heard somewhere and to put something out there for the mindful, thinking few that still really read and reflect rather than portray only personal pixel points; these images inhabit me with a meaninglessness that I can not seem to make less magnified.  They sit with my stale days and senseless wishes that will never come true until I “do” rather than “try”; fuck them all…but, Mother Moon, I might do it for you?  It is time to take this fine, 48 to bed; “here’s where the story ends”, for now.