My brain isn't functioning.
There's a little pink woman-vitamin pill on my desk, I still haven't taken it.
My boss is too depressed to join the girls for his favourite food -- chinese barbecue lunch.
I don't have time to join them, lunch breaks are the luxury of... other people.
I'm having sushi, my favourite food in the universe, comforting and dancing in my mouth.
Except today, when my stomach scarce will allow me to swallow.
My car is back at the dealer's. The mileage has been steadily decreasing, which is funny given that it's a fucking hybrid car. Its mileage at this point is worse than my 1992 Nissan Sentra's was.
I don't even understand the lawyer's comments to yesterday's document. My deadline appears to be receding into old history and still it sits on my screen, accusing.
I am worried about things that I cannot control, fortunately they will soon be resolved, in some way.
Each morning I stand on our front stoop as the coffee brews, letting the language of the freshly watered plants mingle with the clang of the dishwasher that I just emptied.
Each morning I peer at the spaces between the cedar of our porch, look calmly over our short street, breathe and think of the sleeping man through the window over my left shoulder.
Each morning I realize just how impossibly fortunate I am, not just compared to what my life previous had ever led me to expect, but compared even to the dreams of the blind and spoiled.
I walk up my worn, carpeted steps and back to the demanding blink of the machine, and begin to catch up on this or that analyst's email before the minutes tick even past 6:30.
Even now, as I sit at my desk through lunch, a dozen separate documents demanding, always demanding, I have some small taste of this morning's breath still caught against my palette, reminding me, always reminding me.
Reminding me that I am wondrous, that I am kind and strong and woman in entirely my own fashion, reminding me that I am loved and that the home I never believed in awaits to envelop me each night.
I am more fortunate than a city full of people, because each of my slings and arrows has taught me to recognize this very thing.
I carry fortune in the very bend of my elbows, and each day I stare into eyes and minds own and try to use my jedi tricks to spew hope into hearts.
I am stealing ten minutes of time that I do not have, to dream and remind myself that I never stopped.
My hamatchi tastes divine after all.