Caution: Personal Note to Follow

So here I am, sitting in my windowsill smoking cigarettes and a bottle and a half of wine down on a Saturday evening. Two children sleep in my bed and I’m destined to crash on the recliner, which is simultaneously very comforting yet not comfortable at all. The offbeat drumming of the day’s earlier rain trying to make its way off of the neighbors roof, slipping up and out of the gutters, falling down to the plastic garbage cans in the alley below and thumping, bonking, beating me a background rhythm for my typity click clack fingers to fall in line with.

I have friends who are probably out drinking right now, abandoning their no smoking New Years policies in exchange for a bit of weekend relief. Others who are being thrown out of of houses and having to raise babies on their own, some who are just trying to get through school to see what life has to offer next, and even more who I haven’t spoken to in months or years who are doing who knows what who knows where.

Another glass of wine, another cigarette. Someone stumbles over a garbage can in the alley. I have laundry sitting in the dryer. A car door slams, and they’re off.

Another drunk into the night.

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