I don’t have to go to school today.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind going to school. I enjoy riding in the car with my Dad, with the sunroof open, listening to NPR and speculating about the logistics of stealing Trump 2020 signs out of all the front yards between home and the edge of the Genesee valley.

The campus itself is beautiful; it does that particular old-bricks-and-ivy aesthetic soo well, and it rambles. The buildings were built into the side of a steep hill, on the edge of the Genesee valley. The view looking west from the gazebo where an acquaintance of mine did it with a guy for the first time is breathtaking. You can see for miles. My legs are screaming from three days of walking uphill, but for that view it’s worth it.

Yesterday I found a place to sit in the shade, in the shadow of one of the older buildings. It’s one of those out-of-the-way places that everyone walks past and nobody notices, and that makes it perfect for me. I sat with my back to a brick wall, and I read about the Pythagoreans. They were an odd bunch.

But I don’t have to go to school today.
This morning I woke up from a vivid dream, and I only remember snatches of what it was about.

So I climbed out of an upstairs window and onto the roof, and then I jumped, in a calculated arc, and after about half an hour of falling comfortably I landed with an impressive splash in the middle of the swimming pool. And it was fucking cold, but afterwards I was awake.

Under the water, I poured myself a cup of coffee, at sat at the bottom of the pool, and read a book for a little while. Still working on Stephen King’s Wolves of the Calla.

At the bottom of the pool, I can’t get an internet signal, so I don’t get caught in a web of social media outlets and emails and text messages. Nobody else in the universe has worked out how to hold their breath for as long as I have. It’s a nice place to go, when I need to disconnect from everything.

When I feel hungry, I put the book back on the shelf of the library that’s at the bottom of the swimming pool, and blithely kick my way to the surface. 

Everything sort of tastes like cardboard, but toast is a manageable breakfast. Fortunately, the toaster is far enough away from the swimming pool that electrocution isn’t a big concern.

That reminds me! I’ve been meaning to share a thing. I recently discovered a true gem of a pickup line, which I will never use, but will absolutely file away in the back of my mind in a dusty box labeled Just in case…

“Damn, girl, are you a toaster? Because I’d get in a bathtub with you.”

Folks, I hope it’s an excellent Friday.