Switching It Up

I make my coffee black this morning, and have peanut butter toast without butter on it. I have developed a routine which involves taking a shit at eleven thirty and then taking a shower directly after. The dog disrupts my routine, sitting by the door at around eleven, telling me that he needs to go out to the bathroom. This requires me to get dressed prematurely only to take my clothes back off again once I get back inside.

I remind myself to keep moving, having to get dressed and make the bed. I don’t masturbate in the shower. Nothing is coming to mind which makes me want to rise to the occasion. The socks I am wearing today have orange dinosaurs on them and green heels and toes. I have chosen to wear my grey boots because my Paris shoes have begun to hurt my feet.

I’m just trying to make it in this city. I don’t know if I will have this job for the rest of my life.

I tell my dog that he is a good boy and that I love him. He was looking so sad. The black coffee on my desk is getting colder by the second. I only made half a press today. The dog raises his head and I tell him that I am proud of him.

“Families take care of each other.” I say.

I switch up my suit jackets because there is a hole in the grey one that I got married in which causes my e-cigarette to fall into the jacket’s inner lining each time I put it away.

Radiohead comes on over the radio. I leave the apartment to Fake Plastic Trees.

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