Margaret, Meditating_You Wait_No post today_The Worst
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Margaret, Meditating
Today I will focus on my breathing.Today I will--Is that a dog?I think I hear a dog.That sounds like a big dog.Is the dog in distress?Should I go help the dog?I miss having a dog.But, you know, you get a dog, and it’s like having a child.You have to be home.When am I ever home?That’s not fair.It’s not fair to the dog.If you’re going to--I need to breathe.I need to focus on breathing.I wonder if Napoleon had a dog?Focus.Focus on breathing.God, breathing is so boring.Why is meditating all about breathing?Why can’t you meditate while you do something interesting?They should do Monopoly meditation...
You Wait
You sat at the table waiting for me. When the candlelight in front of you blew out from a wayward gust of wind through the window, you weren’t mad. The white overhead lights filled the room enough that the candle of faint scent hadn’t mattered. You were mad that I was late. The waiter came over to you for the second time. And he said, “You should-a move, I-a swear. Or at least-a order.” So you stared at him. After processing the fake accent, you looked around. You knew that there was no one to take the table if you left, the only other couple in the restaurant jointly wore so much fur that yo...
No post today
Stwww.onedoor.cceph was busy working in her home office when she heard the annoying ding of the ring doorbell. The postman had already been, so Steph assumed it must be Tim or Pam from the cottage, just up the driveway. They didn't have a letterbox, so all their post and deliveries came to the main house.Tim and Pam had been faultless tenants for years and were a respectable, retired couple with lots of time on their hands. Tim and Pam loved to talk, and they were quite the double act after 55 years of happy marriage, demonstrated by frequently finishing each other's sentences. Steph answered the door to fi...
The Worst
Saint's pits. I'm Marina again. Marina is the worst. Her tone is nasal, she can't see anything, and she seems brainless. And she lives in the medieval age, where everyone smells. Bad. They all smell terrible. Women are expected to stay home, have babies, and be boring, basically. I wake up in bed next to Alan, Marina’s husband. My husband. I am Mariana, or I was, centuries ago. It’s not that I actively remember my past lives. I have moments of Deja Vu like everyone else, but honestly, I think those are just momentarily misfiring synapsis. No, instead, I have the super annoying gift? Ability? ...