scenes of domesticity
I got a tachometer today and, via the world’s most seamless hack job, put it in Twinkie. Turns out the previous owner had installed a cellular phone in the car, and upon removal had left certain wires in very strategic locations. My car now has a TwinkieTach. The superbowl was boring and my clothes took too long in the dryer. I’m wearing the fuzzy green sweatshirt I got for Christmas. Work at GNC is going well; my new boss seems to appreciate me quite a bit, a sentiment I didn’t often experience at HT. I made $14 on commission Saturday night on top on the hourly rate, and I was training most of the time. In six hours or so that day, Brian made $100 on commission. I could get used to that. Made yellow rice this evening for dinner, but there wasn’t a full cup of rice, so it was a bit watery after twenty minutes. I had to strain it a little bit. I finally found my glasses, which I’ll have to clean off. Sitting on top of the dresser for a couple of weeks doesn’t do much for the lenses’ clarity.
I will dance. This seems to be the theme of every other song I hear of late. Dancing is not just about music and physical movement, it’s about walking the steps you were meant to walk in the time given to you. I have put dreams on hold; I have been fearful, cowardly, and unambitious. I don’t even recognize myself during the first phone conversation we had Thursday night, the whimpering, pathetic crust of a man. Not that I am any more one now, but I do have this conviction: I will dance. On many floors and with many pairs of shoes, I will take the assignment He has given to me and gently, in His time, movement by movement, bring His name glory through the fruit of His guidance. I have been blessed with many talents, and now is the time to step into them and make my way onto the floor. Here we go…
i feel you.
-h