Pickles at Midnight or How I Spend My Day "Writing"
I get up late-ish.
I eat, shower, dress.
I open my laptop and power it on.
(Meanwhile, downstairs, people are moving
and talking and getting stuff done.)
Shivers make me put on a hoodie.
No socks; I put on socks.
Laptop on, I open OneNote and stare at
what I'd written the past night.
(Inside I groan a little because it's not perfect
and it needs to be perfect if I'm going to move on.)
Dog comes in, lies down.
Cat comes in, dog growls, cat leaves.
(I've given up trying to make the animals stay away.)
I place my fingers on the keyboard and type
words on the screen.
And then backspace them, because they're not perfect.
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