Not yet jonesing

I pick up a chair, legs confusingly large, and get it to the deck. Outside. I sit. Close the door and sit and Watch the sun cross through the horizon drinking a very tall glass of very good water. I try to sit still. Seconds, entire seconds pass, just being still. Other, now unfamiliar, parts of my brain get to be the one thought I can think at a time.

I visit my sister, that is leave the house. And visit my sister.

We do not only talk of Mafia Wars. Sometimes Farm. Sometimes other things. We talk for hours of the TV shows we're missing, and movies coming out. We've bonded this week figuring out how to build our Mafia. We've bonded and for some reason that bridges to this sitting on a couch talking to each other world. Huh.

I prepare and eat a very good egg-salad sandwich. A sandwich with taste, and smell, and texture. I make another very good sandwich.

I listen to skilled piano players play familiar pieces. I do not yet know that I really need this.

I make stew from scratch, my hands remembering more complicated things. Chopping. My attention starting to span more than a click. Staying here and not burning the onions. 

I check my blog. On a whim. Clicking on that other button in my menu. I gaze at beautiful pictures on beautiful websites that I didn't realize I bookmarked for just this occasion. They're confusing. No words. No symbols. I don't know what they're saying while I drink it up with the relief of the parched.

I remember email.  I do not notice the three day coup as shocking as when there was only Russia. I do not notice the superior regime comfortably replace and improve. In practiced rote I open, delete, delete, delete, delete, read, delete, close.

I hold my forehead and inhale. Let my world expand. My peripheral awareness awaring wider, wrapping out and out and around until I reinhabit the third dimension of my world. Until I have two sides to my brain. Until I have arms and legs and color and smell.

Facebook really grabs you when you first sign up, doesn't it?