The hours that go by in idleness, pulled from a meaninglessness to an irrelevancy. And then, as pressure builds, throwing the self into the chores of hot water: launder, dish, bathe, floors. Suddenly it is time to go to work again, the largest chore of all, wage slavery. In spite of early rising, four in the afternoon before I get there, and after seven in the dark when I go.

Even there I have my pet views, my downloads to poach. Sure the work is done adequately and usually even well. But not without naproxen. Not without the balm de tigre, not without cost to my pained left shoulder. Not with efficiency.

Learning to live all over again, remembering to fight off the demon of consumption.

Finally at the very end it is almost all right. Shop. Eat. Drive. Fold. Square. Grade. Schedule.

And come to the place This Place to pour to spill. The faucet creaks spits sputters.

If I get up early I say. But that’s not the thing. I can give in to distraction just as easily over coffee. So I think again, over again–what happens as the day ends, and what happens as the day begins, these are the important things to focus on and watch.

Advise. Listen. Embrace.