a change of pace

it was a dark and stormy afternoon when our protagonist arrived home needing a stiff and powerful drink. dodging through dire and dangerous traffic caused by impeded intellect and the impetuous and impatient, she grumbled and growled as she sank sullenly into her control chair.

"work," she muttered, "sucks."

nonetheless, she powered up her laptop, stared at her word processing program, and decided to say fuck it. a beer would suffice, despite it being only 12:32pm. battling the forces of evil out there on the murky and beleaguered streets had tested her patience to the limits. construction, construction everywhere. damn the summer season.

or was it summer, she wondered? skies black with fury, rain drops pelting her as if some jesuit punishment for sins long past, and winds sending shivers deep into her weary bones. "summer" was a misnomer. this, she decided, was a misplaced november day.

the ping-pang split-splat of rain battering the window was distracting her from writing and the wind whistling through the barely-cracked window chilled her fingers and slowed her typing speed. a break should be had before settling into the wordy task at hand, but would that break be suitably laced with the guilt it called for? perhaps. a quick break, then, she conceded.

with that, she closed off her sentences and saved her work, preparing to step away from the desk before committing to a diligent afternoon.

*photo of vancouver borrowed from jon eben field.