Late Again

Going to be late for work. Stuffy weather, bruise on my thigh. Drawer and paintbrushes emptied onto the floor. Needless to say, I would appreciate a day off work.

Need a shower. Going to be late. Skin crawling. Cherry pudding in the kitchen. That's breakfast. Mmmm.

And the water hits me, not too hot, not too cold. Refreshing, and if I had the time I'd make it cold, colder, as cold as I can bear, just to stop my skin from trying to fold in on me. But no time. Quick. Stingy with the shampoo, never works, back for more.

Towel on my head and run naked through the kitchen? Could do. Nobody in the house. Meh. Go with modesty after all, and let the water drip down my neck, down my back, carry the shower with me and keep it running as long as I can.

Pause for more pudding. Mmmm.

Sit on bed. Write a blog entry. Because obviously, if I lack even the time to have breakfast, I still have more than enough moments to throw down words for a blog entry.

Splat, splat. Words hit the page and I half expect them to drip.

Going to be late for work.