The Quest

Today, I must leave the apartment.

Needs must be met.

After four days of house/cat/plant sitting for my sister, who is currently enjoying sun and frolics in L.A., I have written scads and slowly come to hate her antiquated, bulked-up monitor, I've blown her computer speakers (there was smoke and everything!) and I've run through almost all the caffeine in the place.

Yes, that last one is what is taking me away from this computer and it's loud, clunky keyboard to my dear sisters car which took half an hour of driving around with a despondent expression featuring full on jutting lower lip before I found parking RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE BUILDING! To contemplate giving up such a wondrous parking spot, you know my needs are dire.

Dianne is a veg-head and I need meat. Meat, I tell you!

And I have one, just one, energy drink left in the fridge.

The correlation between the muse and my need to be jacked up on caffeine need not be contemplated now. Not until a full supply of juju is in the steel box in the kitchen.

Why do I tarry?

A full can sits next to this damned keyboard. It's dark countenance reassures. I have time before my blood squeezes the last of this artificial joy into my nervous system.

(sigh)

It's SUCH a good parking spot, too.

Damn.

Oh, for you.

Weird Meat.

Even in such times as these I think of you. Enjoy.