With My Blessing

Carol takes care of Jackson a few days awake.

Sometimes 3, sometimes 4. I go with her a couple of days a week; the other days I spend alone at home in an oh so quiet house. Usually 8 and 1/2 hours.

It's quite blissful.

We did not use to spend as much time together as we do now, back in the olden days in the Henniker house. I worked part time and was gone around 20 hours a week. Up here I have been largely unemployed.

The Henniker palace was two floors. When we were home together we could avoid each other a bit. This place is one level. No escape. So these days alone are a treat for me.

With the good weather, I set up shop in the dining area. Extreme sunnyness. Tastes like chocolate. 

All the windows are open, sliders are open, laptop on the table - I bang away at my hopes and dreams, aspirations and delusions.

All our neighbors are in close proximity, so I hear conversations. 99 and 99/100% of the people here are retired. They're not looking for a job. They don't need a job. They did their time and made it to parole. 

I don't think they're even looking for an honest man. They're not looking for anything, man.

When they talk, there is no urgency in their voices. No stress. A lot of laughter. 

I never hear anybody say "Oh shit! - it's 2 o'clock - I gotta fucking run." It's more like a casual "OK, then - I'll see you later on."

I'm not even sure these people own clocks. 

I heard a rumor - unsubstantiated - that all the residents once had a clock smashing party. They all got together and piled up all the watches and alarm clocks and wall clocks and desk clocks into a mountainous pile. They passed around a handle of Ten High Bourbon, got good and drunk, and took their clothes off. 

Then with shovels and sledge hammers and baseball bats, they beat the living shit out of that pile. 

I'm sorry I missed it.

Yup, nobody around here worries about time. It doesn't mean a fucking thing to them. They got no pressures, no worries, no commitments - no place they gotta be.

Bless 'em.