It's tuesday, 87 degrees and it's only 11:25 so it's only going to get hotter. Yesterday she said she would sweep today. Her parents decided she could do it while they're at work, because it's summer and she doesn't have any friends in her hometown and she has nothing to do. The floors have gotten dusty, though.
She walks barefoot across the laminate - almost looks like wood, gets just as dirty. Has to wipe the bottoms of her feet on the bottom of the couch before tucking them up under her body. She curls up against the armrest, awake for only 33 minutes and already tired, and turns on the TV.
Her glass of coffee - iced, from the pitcher cooling in the fridge that she's constantly adding more coffee to - is already sweating. Just like her.
Fifteen minutes spent browsing On Demand for something that sparks her interest leaves her feeling the need to get up and do something productive. She could sweep. Instead, she wanders around the kitchen, refills her coffee, then takes a peach from the grocery store bag all the peaches are still sitting in, just brought home from the grocery store the night before.
She'd offered to do the groceries. She could bike the five miles to and from the store easily, fit as much as she can into her basket and backpack. She'd offered, and her mom had said she didn't have to. She turned down the offer and then came home laden with groceries and complaining about having to do the shopping.
The peach and the coffee leave her feeling fulfilled enough for the present. She knows it won't last, but it will do for now. In such extreme cases of boredom, all joys...
You can't buy things with your days
because your days cannot be spent.
Your days cannot be borrowed
and your days cannot be lent.
Your days should not be wasted
and especially not...
What if you'd seen
me, stopped your eyes
on mine and thought
deep thoughts about
me, and you wondered
what i'm like, and
if we liked the
same things as