Finishing work earlier this morning I took a taxi ride home with the Indian Tristan. We spoke briefly and for the remainder of our journey we said nothing at all. Pulling into the bus stop I thanked my driver and took the three flower arrangements and the one can of beer from the boot of the car. Home at last, I sat alone in the cold kitchen and drank my one Spanish beer and smoked the last of four yellows from my crumpled pack. The time said 02.35. Tired, I climbed the stairs to my warm bed and my warm wife.
* * *
The alarm woke me at 06.10 and I thought of snoozing for a few minutes more.
Gotta get up, gotta get out
Gotta get home before the morning comes . . .
Kissing wifey as I dressed for the return journey to work I told her I loved her and would see her later this afternoon. I resumed smoking almost dead cigarettes, drinking chocolate coffee when the text arrived to tell me that my driver was outside.
* * *
7 hours of work but not much to do, I’ll take a coffee and smoke a yellow, today’s morning is beautiful.
* * *
. . . and my life is too.
kornafookinrama . . . it seems i’ve swallowed a fookin’ self help book, with lots of positive thinking followed by positve action eventually leading to self help suicide.