inventory

I realize I was without my phone for almost half the year last year, and without social media for almost even longer than that. I didn’t even check my horoscope as much, preferring an almost nebulous, intuitive sense to my day, if not just taking the astrological moods as they come.

I tend to go through periods where I live in bubbles, away from the world. Always not quite skimming the surface of things, or else if I do, I feel like some great meteorite striking down and engulfing everything in change. I’d much rather stir through space just above things, observing from afar.

My sponsor wants me to start taking inventory of my day, I suppose that’s why I preceded all of this with those thoughts. I find it funny, like reading a horoscope and trying to scry what the day might be like, and then the after-effects of it all. In reality, I attempt not to get too close to other people. Perhaps I’m not even really the meteorite at all, but the crater that’s the earth after it hits.

I was able to get that coffee cake I like yesterday. It has a line of cinnamon crumble in it and is festooned with tiny chocolate chips, I had it with a cappuccino at about 3:45pm in the afternoon, right when the sun was setting. We talked about my possible trip to St. Augustine, my sponsor and I, and I told her about the little devil on my shoulder who perhaps thought I could sneak away somewhere for a glass of Sauvignon Blanc when no one was looking. She mentioned how it’s quite natural for other alcoholics to test the waters after a certain point. I told her I was worried about returning to my old antics, how easily I could polish off a bottle.

I’m almost done with my re-read of Slouching Towards Bethlehem and am eyeing Play it as it Lays next. I wasn’t able to fully appreciate the latter when I first read it, I was hungover and in a cynical mood, my heart fossilized in a heartbreak I blinded myself to. I believe it was 2014. Now that I’ve carved out the cataracts and blood pumps freely through my veins, I can perhaps enjoy it much better this time, although I suppose the material might sting me like an unrepentant hornet.

There will be another pot of coffee brewed, because I still feel drowsy, I will wait for the dryer to buzz and fold my clothes. I’ll trod off to the Dollar Tree for some hand soap and some tissues. If I get my gift card today, I’ll decide between a vape or a book. In between, I suppose I’ll enjoy that coffee cake and watch the sun as it rises and falls over the great sapphire shores of the Atlantic. I wasn’t haunted by a familiar dream of a vodka martini with a lemon twist last night, I didn’t dream of the astringency of its flavor or the thrilling chill of its ice. I can’t remember what I dreamt last night.