Sitting On The Farm

I don't know what it is about life, but sometimes, it just decides to spread itself all over the place. I can't decide if this is just some inevitable consequence of owning things, or if it is actually just my own lazy fault. ... Probably the latter,

Anyway. This morning I woke up at six-ish. I was as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as one can be at that time of day, and I got dressed and ready to head out the door to go to work when I realized-- mt work shoes were at the apartment across the hall. So was my purse. Oh, and also all the groceries I bought yesterday (my cupboards were pretty bare). I went over and tried the door: locked. I called my friend: no answer. I yelled at her through her bedroom window: no response.

Now, it is twenty to nine. I still haven't made it to work and and I am just waiting waiting waiting.

This happens-- too often. My shoes in the living room, my debit card on the bookshelf downstairs, my keys down the side of the couch and my books on the kitchen counter. How does it all get there, and why doesn't it stay put? I don't really know, but sometimes, I wish I did.