Mixed Moss

Today, after running errands and submitting resumes, I went to the coffee shop ostensibly to write while waiting for a kid I tutor to show up. I allowed myself plenty of time. I brought my favorite ball-point. I had a n otebook, as well as a large supply of napkins (since everybody knows that the best, most inspired writing is done on the backs of napkins, take-out menus, and paper placemats). Instead, I wound up sitting and staring moodily out the window for an hour and a half while my coffee got cold. Eventually I when I scribbled a few words on a napkin, it was about how when I think of what I am, I always seem to come up with past-tense verbs. I can list with great comprehensiveness what I was. But what am I?

The tutoring appointment never showed.

When I got home, my mother called to ask when I could come home to help her with something, and I inexplicably burst into tears. Then, somebody called to ask me to go out somewhere (I know because of who it was– thank-you, caller id!) and I just ignored the phone, because, really, if it’s for later then I can call back and if it’s for tonight, I really, really don’t feel like going anywhere.

Why? I don’t know!!! My whole afternoon has been one of existential despair, for no apparent reason.

Geesh. Women. I don’t get me. I feel bad for men. I mean, really. I’ll ask a guy to understand me when I understand myself.

Right. I’m just going to go put in a movie and knit for a while.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, November 14th, 2006 at 6:23 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.