The blonde woman behind the counter asks me for a two dollar coin and I can’t find my wallet so I say “just a sec” and then, for no reason I start scrolling on my phone.
As the day passes, I realize I’ve lost opportunities at the hands of creative whim.
But maybe productivity is egotistical. Or, maybe that’s just a fun thing to tell myself when I can’t focus on finishing a 250 word blurb about a mobile game.
I hear my partner clicking keys on his keyboard.
I wonder if he’s Googling vinyl.
I message him, “Are we millionaires yet?”
He doesn’t respond.
He never responds.
I turn to my dog and ask if he’d like to go to the park.
We run down the stairs, out the door and into the mud.
Productivity is something. Something on a shelf with a key and perhaps some electric charge thing that will kill me when I touch it, right? Actually, yes.
If I work non-stop I get hyper-stimulated. It’s just a fun thing about me and my little ol’ bi polar disorder. So a break is good. A break for fun, fresh air, art, phone scrolls (maybe not), sleep.
I like the mess I keep. It’s as organized as possible. It’s as profitable as necessary. Everything else is survival.
Still, if I could change one thing, it would be that productivity thing, somewhere on planet XX, hiding behind space horse shit, waving his middle finger at me, waiting for me to approach so he can show me his naught bits. Yeah. That’s who he is. He’ll probably never change.
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