Burnt

The life takes its toll, there’s no doubt about it. Anybody who tries to sell you a story to the contrary is out of their minds. Yesterday, I slept in until noon and never showered. The only time I left the house was to walk down to the A&W for a “Big Papa” burger, fries and a root beer. (BTW: the Big Papa is a pretty decent burger.) The rest of the day I watched movies with my cat. (Still no cable) It was a festival of black and white classics: From Here to Eternity, To Kill a Mockingbird and The Day the Earth Stood Still. Mockingbird stood out, way out, as the best of the bunch. I’ve got to say I thought Eternity a little overrated. I’d heard so much about how great it was but I must admit I don’t see what all the fuss is about.

But I was feeling pretty low; and it wasn’t just that I was hung over. Rather, I was beat up and torn down from a cumulative combination of work, party and a tinge of depression. Every time the phone rang I cursed or muttered to myself. The cat, getting a little edgy with all my inaction, scratched me on the face while jumping up to play. I tried to read the paper but failed miserably, perusing only the article on the execution of Mr. Muhammad, the Washington D.C. sniper.

I accomplished nothing. A day of my life is now gone. And I have to remind myself that this is what I bought in for, this is one of the sacrifices, the result of my dubious decision making and lifestyle. I want to waste time; I yearn for inefficiency. How many people get to watch movies all day midweek and get away with it? But it does bring me down sometimes. And the price is rightly and deservedly measured.