Check

Check email. Re-check email. Control arrow through spaces. Return to firefox. Re-fresh inbox. Grab iphone. Check time, load email. Return phone to dresser top. Fingertip to the nosepiece of eyeglasses for no apparent reason... Click on a tab that is not gmail. Two finger scroll. Back to gmail.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking my email."

Then it hits me. I check my email. And then, regardless of whether I do or do not have any, I leave it all there. Bold-faced. I'll read it later.

Out of guilt, also boredom, I take a gander. A couple clicks and now I'm reading about Telle and Rex. A dynamic duo that left their respectable jobs on the east coast and like pioneers (their words, not mine) discovered a new way of life in Portland. In Portland, it's only their spare time that's for sale. Full time is reserved for making art! I am suddenly reminded of how last summer I went to tears over a blog post like this. I felt like someone in a crowded bar sat down after me and upon finding doodles on my damp napkin, made a career out of it.
But who am I? Not Telle and Rex, "seeking out enticingly obscure music"

WHO SAYS THAT?!?

If I were on the other side of the legal pad, listening to me, I would ask myself to close my eyes and describe fantasy me, to me. How does she start her day? What does she see when she looks out the window? Does she sign for her own packages? Is she still crossing her sevens? Does she reapply her lipstick after lunch? Has she made a difference in anyone's life? Did she finish reading the book for book club (or is she faking it)?

::my eyes close::

In a large room with plenty of open space, wood floors bend here and there beneath my shoes; I start every single day with a cold-brew iced coffee. The window is larger than me, the entire wall, and outside people walk and run and bike and pass. It's lightly raining. My outfit depends solely on my mood. All of my work depends on my hands and (and glasses). I'm signing for my delivery (which may or may not be the book for tonight's meeting).

I reapply lipstick after lunch, right before I read my email.