Tabula Rasa

My first ten minutes this morning were wildly unfocused.  I thought I dropped a sock on my dark trek from bedroom to kitchen.  I scoured the entire path twice before realizing it was caught up in my shirt.

I spilled a cascade of water from my carafe while making coffee.

My 20 pounds of housecat sat whining at the door but didn’t actually want out.  This was a merely a test.

After stepping outside to “feel” the day (still under a temperature inversion), I flipped on the television and brought to life my computer and smarter-than-me-phone.

My computer hiccupped this morning (electronically speaking), then launched two blank Power Point presentations without my prompting.

Why Power Point?

Why two?

My phone wants to update something.

If my first few minutes of each day are a blank slate, fate, on this day, is scribbling all over it.

-- Mitchell Hegman