A Plan

It’s cold and rainy out and I can’t exactly send Robert out – he has a cold. But I do, I send him away with a few dollars during the afternoon hours that I’m out. He’s going to the Hurricane Cafe, he tells me.

The flat grey sky and steady drizzle give no respite to my gloomy mood and sleep-deprived brain.

I have some breakfast at the increasingly cave-like Bleu Bistro. As soon as I sit down someone puts on the soundtrack to Rushmore. I blankly watch everything that’s happening outside. The chai that I drink doesn’t cut the edge off my mood either.

I run into Robert twice while I’m out and we just trade nods.

I finish reading my book at Bauhaus and head back home. I go on a cleaning binge – clear all the papers and books from the coffee table, wash dishes, and clean the bathroom.

Robert is back around five and we listen to a little NPR while I surf the net. He just sits and when the silence becomes unbearable, I suggest he see what’s on TV.

He turns on one of those Sunday evening low-budget action shows. I figure there’ll be a meeting of the minds when Enterprise comes on, but he asks, “Do you think this looks exciting?” I say it looks good and he humors me, I think.

Quarters are close. Neither of us can sneeze without the other knowing about it. I’m pretty much framing his whole day for him – when he eats, sleeps, and watches TV. He goes along with it – maybe because he has no preference, maybe because he’s trying not to step on any toes. I’d be more comfortable, I think, if it seemed like he had a plan.

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