Sunday slow day

Night time again outside my window. The main drag of Port de Sóller is quieter now. Just the chirring of cicadas and the occasional loud voice. Also the distant sound of someone across the bay hitting something in his boat with a hammer, and the bells of the boats in the bay as the tide rolls them. Yo the hill a bit a clock strikes the three quarters.

I enjoyed not caring for a day. It felt like a holiday. I leave my Google Maps timeline on, so I (and Bill Gates) can view where I’ve been. It is as fascinating as it is horrifying. I remember scrolling through it once a while ago and noticing how few days there were without good long tracks of movement. Today will be one of those trackless days. A little walk up the bay, a little walk back down.

My car is parked well in a place where parking is hard to find. Rather than risk being unable to park it as well again, I thought I’d just leave it there and stay here until I’ve unloaded tomorrow at 11. Also I just didn’t want to be part of the struggle today. I wanted to do what I did: To sleep until I wake. To let other people cook for me. To rest. To disconnect.

The road was long and I’m gonna have to go back the way I came. I haven’t stopped properly for longer than I can remember. Crazy silly things but they still take focus. God I don’t know how you do it with kids. I discovered last night that I was exhausted. I’ve had a cold the last week on top of everything else and that was just my body saying ‘no more”. I am on full recharge mode. Apparently breakfast is included with the room, but I slept through it this morning. That’ll start to come into play from now on.

A room with a balcony was the best idea for me in this state. I could just sit in my tracksuit and watch the world do the world thing. Sunday. It’s allowed.

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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