Tuesday

0801 hours

Greek breakfast.  Coffee and cigarettes.  That what I always have whenever I wake up.  I sit on my toilet doing what I usually do while I type these words.  (It’s overshare but I can’t think of anything to write). A part of me is telling myself that this is a futile exercise, but a huge part is hopeful. Now I can’t think of anything to write.  I think it’s because I’m doing a zillion thing at the same time – doing my morning toilet absolutions, while thinking if the SMS message I sent to my work group would arrive while thinking of something to write.