WHAT TO DO WITH THIS DAY

He was up and getting at ’em like he’d done every morning in this same house for years. He walked into the kitchen in his bathrobe and nightclothes, hair askew, and fumbled around in the pantry for some coffee. While it was brewing he sat at the table and squinted out the sun-filled window. He saw the neighborhood making it’s way to their boring ass jobs- some kids waiting for the bus on the street corner- and the general morning sounds that so many hear in suburbia at just this time of the day. Humanity back in motion once again.

He flipped on the radio and out came the voices of that damn NPR, yapping away with the morning news. After getting himself some coffee, he sat back at the table with his newspaper, and lit the first of many Marlboros that he’d smoke today. Gonna have to switch the the cheaper ones soon, he thought. He put on his bifocals and scanned the Help Wanteds. The same jobs that have been there for weeks, he thought. Nothing new. No one wants him.

He pushed the paper aside.

Oh, what do with this day? Since Stella had left him and he no longer had anywhere to be, it was so easy to just do nothing. It was much better he figured, back when she was still here, with her always pushing him to be where he needed to and always querying and well just nagging him to bring home her bacon. But now things were different. Who ever knows how things’ll turn out? He got up and rustled around in the cupboard, and pulled out the big bottle of vodka he’d been hitting lately. He tipped the bottle and his eyes laid on just enough for a drink or two. He shook his head and figured he better get dressed and over to the store for some more. He went into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. Splashing water on his face, he ran a comb through his unruly hair, pulled on a t-shirt and jeans, and threw a ballcap on his head.

He headed out the front door and saw his next door neighbor making way to his car. “Hiya Bill,” the neighbor said to him with a smile. My doesn’t he look spiffy, Bill thought- carrying his shiny leather briefcase, all happy and clueless. “Hey buddy,” Bill replied, coasting sheepishly to his car door. “Off to work today?” he asked. Why does this guy always have to be on me?, Bill wondered. “No, you?” His neighbor segued into some BS about a meeting this morning and potential promotion, and how they could finally put on a new roof on their house, take that trip they’d been needing, and just how nervous and excited he was feeling generally. Bill stood there frozen, shaking his head and suffering through it. Suddenly he got into his car and gunned it out of the driveway.

The neighbor watched in confusion.

Bill put on his sunglasses, shielding himself from the morning glare. He focused on the road ahead and his destination- the shopping center. Oh, what do with this day? Well, I’ll get me my booze, get back to the house, knock back a few then I’ll know.

Something’s gotta happen.

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