Mood For the Day
Today's Mood on Fri, 4 Sep 1998
Orange bag in hand and bare-chested save an orange vest, he removed litter from the side of the road. Although his service was in payment for alcohol-related offenses, he was pretty wasted by the time his bag became heavy.
He had plenty of time to ruminate on his future as well as his present, and was doing so just as he got to a fairly treacherous dip in the median. He looked down to see a white fluttering in a spot he'd never get to while carrying that bag, so he dropped it and began his descent.
Good thing I'm not drunk, his wasted brain observed gratefully. He hadn't been drinking for a month now, ever since ...
He shut down that train of thought as he got halfway down the median. I wonder how long I can stay sober, he started to think. I wonder if I'm doing the right thing.
He saw more litter on the way to the white thing which he still could not identify, fluttering on the tips of the dry grass. He scooped up this litter in his hands, hoping that white fluttering thing was a bag: otherwise he'd have to make two trips to the orange bag by the side of the road. Again he pondered: I wonder if I'm doing the right thing.
Although he hadn't been drinking for a month, he still hit any other drug to his fancy. At the moment he was feeling the effects of some tea he'd drank before getting to work out here. Hallucinogens, let it be noted, tend to bend one's thoughts to only one (circular) track.
I wonder if I'm doing the right thing, he thought yet again. Just at that point, he caught up to the white fluttering thing that he hoped was a plastic bag on the tips of the dry grass.
The small white plastic bag said, 'Have a Nice Day' around a smiley face, which was smiling right at him. He smiled back. He was no longer wondering.
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