foxtongue | maybe I will find her at the PuSh closing party tonight

Stepping into the shower, something clatters to the floor of the tub. Immediately I step over the drain and check my ring, thinking I don't have any earrings to catch in my hair anymore. The ring's still there, circling my finger. Trying to look down finds me nothing, my eyes can't focus as far as my feet so I lean out, snag my glasses from the counter, and try to check again. Steam makes them as useless as my eyes, so I take them off again, curse my childhood reading, and drop to my knees, squinting against my failing vision and the water falling. A second clatter, now I worry that I've broken something or that maybe a washer in the spout is failing. A plumbing problem to worry about, I don't want that today. I have a show to go to, a day of sitting at a desk at work, maybe a loved one to visit and take care of. My hands sweep the ground, looking for answers. I'm not quite awake enough for this. Maybe I imagined it. Then I find them.

Two dollar coins are sitting next to my left foot, gleaming wet in the shower rain. My tips from bartending last night that I had tucked into my bra, forgotten, then slept on.

It's been an anomalous week, full of antonymic events and discoveries. I just now, for instance, found out that Faun Fables, the group Mer's in, played at the Western Front this Friday. A show Michael was supposed to be at, where I was meant to meet him, except that he abruptly and unexpectedly came down sick. So there it is, a weirdly missed opportunity, (unless she's still here, though I have no way of getting a hold of her if she is), sort of my week in a nut-shell. Good things, bad things, all mixed up, like a chemical chain diagram written by a second year student. Useful, comprehensive, but full of peripheral mistakes, dirty with a list of uncertain side effects.