Monday, August 27, 2007

A couple of months ago I finally admitted to myself that my ancient, nicely flattened pillows were perhaps not the most sanitary of sleeping aids, and so I went and bought some new ones. But these pillows I bought are much too thick for my narrow shoulders, and no amount of throwing them on the ground and stomping on them seems to flatten them. Most of the time I find myself sleeping just below them, the soles of my feet resting against the hope chest at the foot of my bed.

I blame pretty much everything on mixtapes. Everything in the world. The summer has been stuffed full of so many good things, but so far there has been no: fishing, frisbee-ing, playing catch. Someone bring a couple of baseball gloves and a trout and let's go to the park.

Last night I slept on the other side, twisted unusually, and woke with my shoulders full of knots. I didn't mind a bit. It might be that my heart turned inside out just a little. Maybe it's the end of August and time to rethink the no touching rule. Maybe it's already rethought.

I hope that every penny you find is a lucky one.

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