I scrape orange paste from my teeth and wonder when the last time I brushed my teeth was. Or perhaps I don't brush closely enough? In the bathroom mirror my teeth are magnified to a detailed grossness but my pores are strangely good. This is an unremarkable dream.
Fading in and out of sleep I think about a new tv show I have been watching. It is in no sense remarkable but compared to...the lack of tv I ingest it's good enough to think about in the morning haze.
Today my spade kept unearthing worms. All I really want to do is plant my geraniums but shiny slimey earthworms emerged from all my digging. Skinny things, enormous fat wriggly worms, worms of all types. My heart panged at the sight of dismembered bits resting from the shock. I felt monstrous and tried to tell them that I used to pick them up in the rain on my way to school, so that they wouldn't shrivel when the sun came out.
Thyme seeds are as small as a punctuation period or a human zygote. They will grow unevenly due to damp dirty hands but I will at least have something fresh and lemony in the late summer.
I finally talk to C online. C is well and her life is going splendidly. I wonder about more seductive What Ifs in my own life. But I worry about O more, who is submerged in is own depression. Although I love from afar and wish we talked more, I do not want to live similarly. I will not be returning to that fair city.
Tomorrow I will rise early and plant my cantelope, my ten carrots, and the two watermelon in the limited space called a garden. In the evening, when I have paid my dues, I will come back and finally map out Some Sort of Future. Something is better than Nothing at all.
A cartographer's craft is never fully complete.
