finding the Warhol

I want to call her but I’m sitting at my work desk and it’s 9:20AM my time which means that it is 6:20AM her time, and that’s most likely too early to be calling folks on a Monday morning.

I check my email account hoping that she has sent me a message but it is really too early to be expecting messages but I check anyway.

I was out of bed earlier than usual today, which I think is odd because most everybody set their clocks ahead an hour so my internal clock should be running late, not early.

I used the time to cook an egg and a slice of ham which I put into an English muffin sandwich and I included a slice of swiss cheese. I should have used havarti. She will think that I should have left out the muffin. I also eat half a grapefruit. I only mention what I ate because there is one person who cares what I end up sending down my throat.

I’ve been steaming the wrinkles from my clothes for about two weeks now. I am starting to like it better than ironing.

It’s Monday in every sense.

I don’t seem to be getting any meaningful rest on the weekends, which I wouldn’t mind too much if I felt that I was getting things done. I am doing things but they do not fill my need to get things done.

I’ll have to adjust my week days to include some rest. I also have to adjust my days to include cooking pork chops and steak tips before they expire.

I miss her. I miss her eyes. I miss her sexy little mouth. I miss her feel. I miss her intoxicating smell. I miss her taste. I miss her touch. I miss her kisses. I miss her hair that would get in the way from time to time. I miss touching her foot with mine. I miss her warmth. I miss the various curves on her back. I miss holding her hand.

I want to use my MFA membership card but I don’t know when I will be able to use it. Right now there seems to be more important things than looking at fine works of art.