I’m there 2 hours before departure, so I know I’ll be okay. I have patience for this clusterfuck, yet feel sad for those around me in panic. The cumulative stress in the security area and disbelief that it can be this bad, I wish I could lift it off, ball up, and kick it to the curb. But there’s nothing I can do.
I get home.
It’s 10:56 am. In the 6 hours I’ve been up I’ve had a breakfast torta and a cup of coffee. I open my fridge – it’s packed with such various, odd things – and in the front-middle of the bottom shelf stands a lone bottle of dark ale beer. There’s a 2 inch empty border on the shelf floor around it, like a halo magnifying the invitation.
I accept.
One cat is back to sitting in the flower pot. The room fans are turned back on to “low”.
We resume our positions.
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