Saturday, October 1, 2011

Only Ahead

I’m writing this at my new desk. It is dark brown. I think “espresso” is the exact shade. That word always made sense to me until now. It’s because prior to writing the third sentence in this blog, I was under the impression that the word was “expresso.” No one has ever corrected me until Spell-Check. Thanks, Spell-Check. I’m not a coffee drinker, so the word doesn’t often come into contact with my lips. I feel that this gives me a pass on knowing such coffee-exclusive terminology. Putting the X in there would make more sense in my opinion. People get “shots” of the stuff and the get pumped, move faster. One could say it’s the express version of coffee. One could also say that it’s the mild version of crack cocaine. I’ll let you decide. But the Red Bull sitting next to my computer serves as a gentle reminder that we each have our own drugs.

            My room has been too bright, and I have never had the initiative to do anything about. But yesterday, I desperately needed a 3:30 nap. So I found a blanket in another room, and then franticly wedged its corners into the mechanics of my blinds. Only this morning did I realize that the blanket I chose has a design covering it entirely: pool balls. It’s throwing off the otherwise 1968-esque vibe of my room. But the blinding light peering through the side of my billiards collage is threatening to flood into my room if I take it down, so I went to a garage sale this morning and bought a chair that would have matched my grandmother’s dining room set to compensate for the vibe clash. It has armrests. I imagine my grandmother might have had some words for a man who puts a chair with armrests at his desk. Armrests are for the living room. “Your arms can’t rest and work at the same time.” Truthfully, Grandma wouldn’t have actually spoken any of those words. She would have glared them. Her eyes always said more to me than her mouth.

            I have never really been close to a grandparent, at least not my own. I have always adopted them. I know it seems odd to adopt an old person rather than a child. But there’s way less paper work and unlike children, they can at least tell you when they’ve peed their pants. I have no message or inspirational truth today. Only a head. These are the things that run through it.

-Your Pal David

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