I'm sitting on a cornflake, waiting for the van to come. Literally. The cat
splashed around in my cereal when I got up to check if the movers had
arrived. I heard a crunch as I sat.
Corporation t-shirt doesn't fit
anymore. Relocation blues. Veronica found the stress too much and has
settled into a routine moving groceries across a plate of glass until she
hears a beep. I'm expected to leave her behind.
I'm letting my face grow long.
I called ahead to see if I could
start a week late. They said it doesn't matter much cause every day is the
same. Chickens, chickens, chickens. I'm only glad we don't kill them. See
how they run like pigs from a gun. I couldn't stand that.
The van is still not here. I may
have to see if I can delay one more day. We get t-shirts that say, "I Am the
Egg Man." There is no end to packing eggs, they tell me. I hope to pack
enough eggs to stop wondering if any of the cartons I touch will also be
touched by Veronica.