The toad rested on the plastic grate like a tomato that had grown on its side, and so became bulbous towards the sun, and flat against the soil. It had settled into the rising steam from the geothermal heating system. When the calico mousing cat rounded the corner, it hopped up from its resting spot and stood at attention. Behind it was a splotch of collected moisture in the shape of its underside. And, I thought, though I haven't stopped the upward motion, this was the place I climbed to be in. At night, I walked the sidewalk and, looking up at the lights of houses on the hillside, I thought, one day, I might be there, but I worked hard to be here. Walking at night. Holding two bags of two flavors of doritos. Returning to a place I live in.
Rick-rack cactus. Draceana Cordyline. Monstera Deliciosa. Monstera Deliciosa Thai Constellation. Hawthornia. Boston Fern. Staghorn Fern. Rabbit Foot Fern. Jade Pothos. Golden Pothos. Pothos. Three cardboard boxes crunched under other cardboard boxes. Listened to a song from a video game that I've never played. Drank two cups of coffee. Tore cardboard boxes apart to free the captives within. Said, "You are free now, six-inch Black Velvet Alocasia. Reborn into the tepid air and into the houseplant ward. Breathe fresh." Surrounded myself with the entrails of packaging. Sweat a lot.
Enthiran (transl. Robot)(2010) is Bollywood movie that I will review later.
At 12:00 PM, I walked ten minutes to Albertsons for ingredients to make Brain David Gilbert's perfect breakfast sandwich. I am young and my pan collection is minimal. And so: I secured my first griddle.
I felt the same nervous humility, as I walked through the outercity suburbs, with double-bagged groceries in one fist and a new griddle in the other, as I did walking through my college apartment complex, with a new multipack of toilet paper. A pedestrian act made remarkable by showing others that you have a private life. Look at me, I say, pedestrianing, I cook food with a griddle and will use toilet paper when I poop later. I blush at a passing, off-duty ambulance. Rain greens the moss. Lichens rust the sidewalk. Nothing much happens.
My wallet is a "Ugly Lime Green Nintendo DS Carry Soft Case Travel BAG." An ebay.com prize. Clipped to its shoulder strap are several rattling, glow-in-the-dark keychains, and my keys. In its game cartridge storage slots are $1.40 in coins.
At 1:30 PM, I unlocked my front door and spilled $0.42 in coins onto my porch.
My roommate believes coins are useless and throws them into the street. I believe coins are a novel, societal heirloom accessible to everyone. Something in this difference in values may be the crux of tension within our relationship.
At 5:00 PM, Sabin and I ate the perfect breakfast sandwich. It tasted like someone clapped us on the shoulder and called us "boss."
I spent $5.00 on scratch tickets. Won $2.00.
I am a writer. I am a florist. I am a yarn shop's social media manager, newsletter writer and website designer.
I enjoy knitting. I enjoy flowers. I feel the same about writing as I do getting out of bed.