My Robot Is Pregnant theme song!

I haven’t even pulled the curtains back and seen what kind of day this is. The thick elderly hair on my chest is sticking out straight with static from tossing and turning in bed all night. I’ll put a shirt on soon, it’s cold in here.

About a month ago I started paying rent on a storefront, going in with Jimbo, a guy I work with hauling. I realized if I quit drinking, I’d have enough money to to afford it.

It’s almost two months now and we havent opened, but by January first we will swing wide the gates of garbage.

It’s been ten minutes since I wrote that last sentence. The nice leather work gloves my parents sent me for Christmas are laying on top of the stack of invoices and bills here at the desk.

I’ve been working so much my girlfriend went and got a kitten for companionship and I haven’t gotten a single gift for anyone this year.

The storytelling part of me is turning into a hoarders backyard, the broken bit of conversation I see so much potential in isn’t even under a tarp, it just sits and rots. The pictures I could have taken at these foreclosed homes, the eviction cases, the old folks who’ve passed away and the basement sat untouched for years, the possibility of taking those pictures vanished when I threw everything in my truck and hauled it to a transfer station.

The end of the year is a quick right and another left away and I’m not mourning it’s passing, I’m hoping that this next one I handle a little better, squeeze more of the juice from it, now that the tree is growing stronger.