Down Time

 

It really is quiet out here on Robinson Road. The wind has died down and all that I can hear now is the fire burning in the stove and the computer spinning. The refrigerator is in its down cycle and the clock ran out of batteries long ago. No, wait, there’s the wind in the branches again, and now a car passes. In the early morning, and I’ve recently discovered, early afternoon you can hear the lonesome whistle of the Indiana Railroad on its daily rounds, miles away. The refrigerator just kicked on and of course there is the sound of my fingers clattering on the keyboard. I don’t count the workings of my own brain. Are those even properly sounds?

Yeah, I’m really enjoying being unemployed. I’m ever so slowly unraveling the detrimental involvement with the soul sapping, resource depleting unsustainable world. Not that I hope to ever actually escape, this is but an interlude, a little down time. The cat rustles in her nesting place near the stove.

So how’s the job search, you ask? I’ve found work, we’re just waiting for the bank to come through. If I can hold out until then I’ll be building a house for a few months, and more jobs will likely flow from that. If not and after if then I can always do like Pete said and follow one of those semis down I-65 and take 800 numbers off of their trailers. I have applications in other places and I’m terrified lest I get offered a job in a factory, or delivering produce or something.

The photograph is by Charles Dodgson, aka Lewis Carroll, as seen in my recent trip to the the Chicago Art Institute.