Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day

I was supposed to walk this morning. I had spent quite a bit of the weekend fantasizing about this morning’s brisk excursion. The perfect music. The perfect quiet. The perfect smells and sights of my neighborhood and the park.

I couldn’t do it though. That wretched, heartless, evil in this world (aka daylights savings time) ruined all! I just couldn’t get up this morning. Poor P enduring my gapillion snoozes on the alarm. I had to soak up every seven-minute interval! At about 7:42, I realized there was no hope for me and my walk of bliss. It would be ho-hum, driving to work I go.

(Meh. At least I didn’t have to rock this dress with those tennis shoes. I mean, I coulda pulled it off, but you know.) In the Sentra I sit, radio goes on to 94.7 because no, I don’t have a CD player, and no, I don’t have an iPod for the car adapter thingamadoodad. What is playing on our alternative station? ‘Time’ by Pink Floyd. Not quite sure why. When things like this happen, I immediately think someone has died.

Remarkable belief in humanity and the twinkle of goodness that exists from starting a new week with a feeble Monday morning came over me. An enveloping of calm and comfort created by years of listening to Pink Floyd as a child with my parents and then again as a young adult. How this experience with this inopportune drive to work magically turns into the one moment that was necessary for today: perfection.

I blast the music. I’ve really been into volume lately. Must have some resonance for me because it’s something I only do when I’m truly alone. There I was with my coffee cup, my crazy dress, my 11 minutes to get there, and:

Plans that either come to nought
Or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desparation is the English way
The time is gone
The song is over
Thought I'd something more to say…