How?
I wake up at 4 PM, naked. Drifting about in my dark room, I find my robe.
Opening the door, the evening light usually pours through the hallway window and I struggle to maintain the sense of the world around me. Squinting and stumbling, I make my way down the stairs to my living room.
My cat usually greets me from my couch – she’s a lovely thing. A tabby cat with a wondrous life; always full, always active. I envy, but love her nonetheless.
I give her a quick call, and she follows me into dining room, then the kitchen. I feed her half a can of wet food, and go about making myself coffee.
I pluck out the bright yellow can of Bustelo coffee, and my mind automatically thinks of my parents back home. I smile, than am sad. I miss them.
A full minute goes by, and I realize that I’m standing there, staring at the coffee. Rushing through it, I put an onion bagel in the toaster and head on Fluther. I look through my activity and see if anyone has written anything mildly entertaining or intelligent, before drifting away. I don’t know why I feel the unnatural need to visit or devote time to the site. I just do.
By now, my coffee is brewed, and my bagel is toasted. I spread some cream cheese on it and grab my coffee, heading back to my office. Stopping momentarily to look at the pictures of my passed on loved ones and urns containing the cremated remains of my two previous cats, I realize that I’m a sad individual – even more so because I feel sorry for myself, often. Working at home sure has it’s benefits, but I’m often alone, by myself.
My cat walks into the room a lazy pace, licking her chops before sitting at the doorway, looking at me. I smirk. I put my hands to my keyboard, and get to work.
It’ll be about 14 hours before I stop.