First Thing (Friday)

Nearly the first thing I do every morning is look at the rat traps. I like it when they’re empty. Who wants to see death first off? Not me.

Then that’s over and the rest of the day proceeds. On its own sweet time, and that ‘time’ thing is a bit nebulous since of course the second-hand on the wall clock jumps ahead right on schedule, always, as sure as math, but the concept of time remains more personal. Like it can be an individual thing, so a brother and sister sip after-dinner coffee and he says, “Boy, this day really flew by” and she says, “It dragged on forever to me” and neither is right or wrong and on the wall the clock’s second-hand is an impassive observer, so when, (with me) after scanning the rat traps I say, “Then that’s over and the rest of the day proceeds”, how that reads (feels) is up to you.

Which is all I’ve got, early. And my loved doodle.