The air smells like dirt, breathing out of drenched sod. It smells like earth worms and puddles. The sky is endless grey, formidable, no light peeking through.
And I remember irrational fear, bubbling under my skin.
Earth worms, the rains, the cold, the pounding, insane fright.
I slam a hard-brewed coffee down, burn my throat, and try to forget the fear, try to keep it at bay.
Thankfully, the fear dissipated by 9AM. And now I’m left with the thought of what I can do during my lunch hour to occupy the time. Stupidly, unconsciously, I ate my afternoon snack apple this morning after I finished a helping of soup, not realising it was the perfect accompaniment to a turn about the office with Edith Hamilton’s Mythology in my hand. Oh, here I am playing a part again, of the studious office lady, reading while she exercises her legs.
Well, reading and snacking in the office while taking a turn around the building is much preferable to napping in the car. Getting to the car involves potential contact with the dreadful five-inch beasts. I’d rather stay inside and be, healthy than go outside and deal with them.