I get home and don’t want to talk about the new job I was abruptly handed. I go upstairs to my room, jerk around on the internet, grow bored, feel the desire to talk to someone but no one is available.
I’m very hungry but I’m also very tired and cooking is the last thing I want to do. I know I should also finish my homework, but I don’t want to do that either.
I go downstairs and my dad asks about my new job. I’m morose and answer in short, mumbled sentences. He tells me how I don’t sound very excited. I say it’s hard to be excited, I don’t feel very well. He asks about the Lithium.
I go into the basement to check on my laundry. It’s not done yet. I go sit in the chair, out of place yet still coherent with all of the random boxes, papers strewn about, knick-knacks, and childhood toys. I start to cry slowly and silently. I hear my father start to come down the stairs and I quickly grab a tissue. He asks, though knowing the answer, if I’m feeling down. What’s new? is my response. He asks if I want a hug. I shake my head no.
I go outside, melted icicle dripping onto my head, and light a cigarette, but it’s menthol and I hate menthol so I only finish half of it. I decide I really do need to eat so I put on a pot of water for linguine, which I hate, but it’s there, so whatever. I start to do homework. I realize I do not want linguine so I take the pot of water and dump it down the sink.
Back in the basement, I start putting my laundry into the dryer and realize I forgot to use laundry detergent.