Revamp

Damn, I'm resilient. I scare myself.

I made myself get up and do something despite 110.005% of me really wanting to go back to bed and never get up again. I went to Pilot for gas and cinnamon bun cappuccino, having been relentlessly catechized on the cumulative benefits of java. The cup read "Crazy about coffee! Pilot. Good to go." The cashier stuck a green triangle on the cup marked "Fri." Why?

At 6:00 p.m. I had to turn the air conditioner on in the Cadillac. At the laundromat Susan's parents were washing what looked like wool horse blankets in the heavy duty machines; they didn't recognize me, but Slim smiled when he passed. At the car wash the foaming brush steamed in the golden sunset while I sloshed bubbles across the hood. Tricky Woo looks so funereal when she's clean, despite being a white car. I love it.

So I finally got some evening blue sky, and now it's still a tiny bit light after 8:00 p.m., which makes me glad. I've had curly fries and I'm going for a walk, and I have clean socks and the prospect of good conversation and What Not to Wear. Now all I need is Crayola's Color Explosion and my life will be complete. Thank God for toys.