(A map of the human heart, to scale)
Woke up on an old, familiar couch. I'm getting used to it. Some mornings I even like it. There is a sense of adventure to it all, however humble. Questions like, where's the coffee... become minor adventures, obstacles to be bested.
There are other things... It would be nice if there was some place to buy brand-new underwear in the early morning hours of San Francisco. Sofas and morning showers are nice, but re-enetering the previous day's bacteria, or worse, is, well... fungal.
It's that.
I feel as if everyone at work must already notice. It's not polite to lean in and ask, Do you smell that too?
It's funky, right?
Walking down Haight St. at 6am is an adventure of another kind. Nobody, I do not believe, questioned my bacteria levels there. I must have seemed like a freshly bathed prince, clothed in rose petals and hundred dollar bills.
They are all a kind and understanding sort, real morning types.
.
