Saturday’s Missed Opportunity

The roommates were gone, the house was all mine; the stars were so aligned. All the space I could need to work. And contained therein all the work that could fill my soul.

One was with his girlfriend’s family.

One was on a business trip to somewhere not here.

One was on a double date to Munster, Indiana.

There was my room to be cleaned. Laundry to be sorted, washed, dried, and folded; papers to be surveyed and filed; sheets to be changed on a bed yet to be made; order to be made of chaos.

There were errands to be run. Suits to be dry cleaned; treadmills to be avoided in lieu of stationary bikes and other machinery inspired by medieval torture chambers; groceries to be purchased.

There were kitchen counters to be wiped; dishes to be scoured, dried, and sorted; a refrigerator to be purged of forgotten leftovers.

There were roommate chores that could have been done with a quiet mind. Bathrooms to be cleaned, tables to be wiped; floors to be swept and mopped; leaves to be raked; stairs to be vacuumed.

There were books to be read. The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle; Of the Imitation of Christ; The Book of Common Prayer; The Bible; The Garbage Eater.

There were words to be typed or scrawled. There were self-indulgent letters to be written; wayward stories to be further mislead; melodramatic and rhythmically awkward lyrics to be composed.

But there was one bright star missing: mine. Never the astrologer, I missed the signs, my cue. I slept late. I watched Psych. I played Assassin’s Creed. With the whole house to myself, I stayed on the couch.

2 Comments to “Saturday’s Missed Opportunity”

  1. Very relatable. Nice.

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