Venture into Vagueness

A tiny apple sits on my desk and not even a whole bite remains.

A new black pen balances on the wire binding of my planner. My journal is jealously waiting at home for the new fine-tipped wonder I picked up at the store today. Instead, more pounding on keys, more escaping work duties, more gazing out the giant windows behind me as the sun starts to set.

It's the first really cool day we've had all fall. Only a few days of fall, granted, and I nearly used "in October," but alas, it's the first of the month. When else would it be cold?

The kind folks at the Apple store helped me with Little Lady Laptop this morning. Apparently their services are a bit slow due to hurricane leftovers at their place down in Texas. Thus, I'm going to bring Triple L back early next week for her tune up. New keyboard casing, where mine has cracked, and a new disc drive, where mine has failed miserably. It was a pleasant way to start my morning, albeit in the mall, and Barnie's gifted me a cup of delicious coffee. Without the regular scoop around, my coffee-making skill are in shambles. The shit I made Monday was so clear I should have dumped the whole pot.

I conveniently got a call from my freelance folks, so there's another check to soften up my savings. Harden...? Errr... Then this afternoon after passing on a FreeWill (!!!) horoscope, I realized some things, some far away places and people, will remain far away. And I will remain here, right now, and nowhere else. This is a very simple realization, or reminder, rather, but a necessary one. I don't have no boyfriend, and dagnabit I don't need or want one.

And then back to being vague.

My bicycle commute was one of the windiest and aerobic that I've taken in awhile. My thighs felt waterlogged walking upstairs at work, and I could stand to stretch for another 30 minutes when I finally leave this fluorescent box.

As the sun starts to set from what I once deemed Sentinel Skies, hinting at the beautiful view from corporate parking lots, I'm realizing this place can be a safe haven. A slowly dying safe haven, of course, which is wherein most of my troubles with the business lie. But it does not reek of bottom-line, consumer-driven profits like the position I'm starting next week. My front-end opinion (god that just sounds/is awful!) is that my company's former cousin's work is a little more mindless than my educated news bubble.

Sigh.

An aside:
Dear Hanes: I gotta tell ya, your "cotton" labeling on the cute black briefs I purchased today is a lot of fluff. So maybe I'm in the wrong for not checking the content. But 90 percent cotton just ain't gonna cut it! Bah!