It’s 1:20 in the afternoon, and I’m getting ready to go to work. I woke up this morning tired and sore from yesterday’s manual labor, and today promises more of the same–painting, grouting, going up and down a ladder, hauling shit around. (It’s good to be employed.) Currently I’m in the SAVERS parking lot. I just bought a pair of two-dollar shorts so I’d have something to paint in and get dirty. This is a problem I didn’t anticipate having, needing “work” clothes. A year and a half ago I got rid of all my remodeling attire. I thought, I’m done with that sort of behavior.

You’re never done with you think you’re done.

Since I worked yesterday until 1:00 in the morning then came home, showered, and blogged until 3:00, I want to get this finished for the day. I hate blogging when I’m exhausted, asking my brain to function when all it wants to do is rest. Push-push-push. Earlier while I was eating breakfast, my dad and I were talk-talk-talking about an upcoming trip. (We’re both considering going to see my sister at the same time and are discussing going in one vehicle.) But my brain wasn’t awake yet–I kept getting irritated. It was too much noise, too early. Too much information, too quick.

Push-push-push.

Part of me is thinking about the stars, the way they come out one-by-one as the sun sets. It’s so freaking hot today, especially in this parking lot, and I can’t wait for things to cool down, for the stars to come out. It seems to me they show up as the heat is taken off. Now it’s 1:37, and I have things I want to talk about and process on the page, things that have happened lately, dreams that are rolling around in my head. But I have to go to work. Plus, to push-push-push them onto the page at this moment would be an exercise in self-flagellation. For this reason, I’m choosing to take the heat off myself, to stop push-push-pushing. Surely my own personal stars will come out as I do.