Today seems to be normal as opposed to last week. The alarm actually went off, Shane was gone when I awoke and the baby was right on time with his morning feeding which he times precisely according to one of two events. One, Shane slamming the door as he leaves for work or Two, the sounds of me turning over in bed to get comfortable with all my newly acquired, husbandless space. It's inevitable. In any case, it's 15 past noon and I'm taking a break from all my packing to write a little about... something. Or maybe nothing.
I've got an applause audio clip playing on my television behind me that was probably placed at the end of the video from some small job-hungry town in Thailand. Even though my son is interested in the constant changing light radiating from his over priced Walmart "gloE" teddy bear, the supposedly educational movie showing the attention grabbing fiber optic lights, spinning tops and a vast assortment of ancient toys is still selfishly pouring itself into my silence.
On my desk sits my current craving. A can of non caffeinated root beer. There, awkwardly in the the corner surrounded by a three week old package of soft mint candy and a clump of business cards I've collected with the intention of redesigning the logo that rests silently in the corner of each one. Every logo stood out to me in some way. The shape, the color, the perception of depth, the shading, the momentary flashback I received upon first glance that brought me back to some distant childhood memory. They all managed to seduce my already limited attention span just long enough to find a home on a dust covered portion of my desk sitting next to my much loved can of previously mentioned root beer.
On the floor to my left is a multi flavored tin of Christmas popcorn that I buy religiously for the main man in my life, formerly my father. The lid is misshapen and ugly from lack of appropriate seating. On it there is painted a picture of an ideal Christmas village with snow covered rooftops, snowmen, horse drawn carriages, beautiful naked trees and houses lit with lights that encourage the seasons joyful spirit. The tin itself is mostly empty with nothing but the crunchy caramel bits swimming in crumbs left from the apparently more favored selections.
From the corner of my eye I see the consistently blinking green bulbs from one of the black cased pieces of technology hidden in the mass of old receipts, coupons, bottles and glasses on my husbands overly cluttered desk. They blink on and off teasing me, knowing I'm waiting for them to show a bright steady green glow of power. It's sleek slender body towering on top of everything else, both metaphorically and physically. It's vented housing, it's UPC, it's CAT5 snaking it's way up from the PC at my feet. I'm full of sorrow to see the lack of traveling packets, I miss the mini globe that sits quietly in the corner of my screen. Those blinking lights symbolize something. They laugh at my frequent stares and many scowls. What is it they're saying?
Your net is out.
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