Diverted

Didn't know how exhausted I was. Overtaken by a great inertia. I sit in the library at the museum and read, getting up only for coffee and the occasional cigaret out back. Finally clean up, shave, go do my laundry. Land taxes due tomorrow, and I'd forgotten, so rather than come back to town I'll stay one more night. I've got my ridge pack together, I'll start hauling supplies, prioritizing backpack loads for the next few days. I've missed my cookstove, I need to make a risotto. Get this next opening out of the way and I'll start taking off an hour early, use up some of my surplus time. Interesting that the extra day I work every week, when D's at Athens and he's only at the museum two days a week; the Saturdays, have been the absolute killer days, when we scrub the floor and move heavy things. Sundays, I'm wiped out. I generally just read, go for a walk, have the occasional mug of chicken broth, with a pat of butter and a shot of whiskey. I miss my reference library. I don't miss the ten thousand things that I needed to do. But I do miss the ridge in deep and profound ways; encased in ice, under a blanket of snow, woodpeckers drumming a garage beat, the driveway impassable. Life, in the slow lane. There was this Swedish dude at Janitor College, a sweet guy, he just wanted to be accepted, but he was dumber than a rock. The brunt of so many horrid jokes. Lars. He drank peppermint schnapps and smelled like a candy cane. Of course the gang went too far, they had left him tied with minor restraints in an ice cave, on a hill, just a few thousand feet high. They weren't expecting the storm of the century. No charges were ever pressed. Sue the Weather Channel, they did me wrong. He should have survived, but he, panic in the real world, in the midst of the real thing, stopped too long and froze to death. We see this, where temps dip to zero and hover there, your body is in survival mode. Plato is the least of your concerns. I don't mean that as either an argument or a statement, foundering here. What I say just reflects what I was thinking about. Not trying, or not trying to divert attention, I did notice you clung close to the lead sheathed pillars. Your fear of xrays is noted. Hey, I was you, I'd lie through my hat. You never met me before, I'm a cyber-link, kink, I don't have enough background info. Communicated by the fact that almost everyone lies. Truth becomes an issue. Listen, I'm willing to not talk about anything, talking about nothing is spare change for me. Nothing is a piece of cake. Careful with the handcuffs, my boss will be in touch with your boss soon enough. I'm just a janitor, I don't understand what you're talking about.