Written Sunday, November 18th as part of NaBloPoMo.


I am not a fan of Sunday, especially when Saturday has been so good and you just know that there is no way the Sunday can even hope to compare, what with knowing that at best there is only time to have one last loll about in the hot tub before the fire in the fireplace that been alight since you arrived Friday night has to be extinguished, and no matter how much you ignore the clock in the kitchen as you read so casually on the couch on the living room you just know that time is marching inexorably to the precise moment that your beloved will look up where he is reading his book at the other end of the couch to say, “well, shall we?”, and you know that even though you'll say something along the lines of “shall we stay another night, you mean?” you'll be closing the book and getting up to start packing away the food even as you say the words, because the cottage is only rented until Sunday and even though the nice man who runs the place said you can check out at 2 instead of 11 so you can take advantage of the sunshine and go for a walk and pull the last of the seeds from the brown milkweed pods and scatter them on the breeze or have one last loll about in the hot tub or just sprawl on the couch reading your book, you know that real life awaits, REAL LIFE, with marking and bills and class prep and light pollution and noise pollution and pollution pollution, REAL LIFE that means taking the bus with the man who smells like he crapped himself and teenage girls who smugly just know that they know more than you and by so doing hold up a mirror so you can see just how annoying you were as a teenager and cringe, so yes, you are understandably reluctant to leave this secluded quiet space that smells of pine and deep fresh water, and even as you act like a responsible adult and prepare to go back to REAL LIFE, deep inside you there is still an incredible irresponsible part of you that would say fuck it all, chuck REAL LIFE for a chance to sit under the stars one more night and watch comet bits fall through the atmosphere, making you gasp with wonder every single time, like each is the first one you've ever seen.

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