Dribble Drobble

At this time of the day, I normally would be in the gym. Today, resting with an aching back, I instead read The Partisan’s Daughter. I feel I have missed something. I am restless. I have a bag of popcorn. Not what I should have had. I feel guilty after having it. It was not my cheat day. I try to write, and I end up with disjointed journalistic recordings like this.

Not my day. Or perhaps it is. I come home early, and I am surprised to meet my sister. She stays close by, but as is the case with anyone these days, distance means nothing. Nor does closeness. I feel we are retreating more and more into being individuals with a Me the more the world tries to Facebook you. Come on now, where is your avatar? You are not on Facebook? What did you tweet? Reach out. Call out. Flood the world with the petty details of your everyday existence. I just had my first coffee of the day. Update. It was black coffee. Just saw a black cat cross my path. 45 likes. Now here you go 400 pictures of my trip to the neighbor next door. But here, I am having a conversation with my sister. As sisters do, lounging around in bed. It was a lovely moment that wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t ruined my back, and come home early and stayed in bed. Somehow, all things happen for a reason. The hard part is trying to find the reason. Or may be the happening is the reason.

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