skin of my

cold tiles on my feet
leaping out of bed like I was 5 and it was christmas. It's that moment when mom justleft the house and at the exact moment when the garage door hits the sidewalk, the house is quiet, I'm up.

Ed Sharpe and the magnetic zeros shimmy me across the carpet and out to the garage. I'm masking off the hallway and front entry way, prepping for painting. Blue masking tape all around the edges and dusty corners ( yes mom they were dusty)

I have a list of things to do. That's always a great way to start a day. Why don't my days feel like this more often, like future in action, like vorfreudt, or whatever that word is that describes the sense of giddy anticipation for what's to come. We don't even have a word for it in english.

Kitten face comes and rubs into my arms and shoulders and any minute now I'm gonna kick all this off and grab that old bike and race out into the street and down all the alleyways, smashing that to-do list into a million waiting pieces.

I'll be looking for walls to paint and bathrooms to clean and lights to dust and cobwebs to extract for a tiny sum. I need to fund this project that is my life.