Wasting No Time

Yesterday we had a summer storm. Just turned summer and bloomed a storm with honest rain and thunder. I left my door open and listened to the thunderbooms and insistent drumming on the roof of my trailer. The smell of rain and flowers; the associations in my mind, of tropical rainstorms with endless capacity to pour. Of blazing electrical displays on an Oklahoma evening, rain so warm and heavy that even the bath shower has nothing to brag about.
I was at the last day of the cafe, Saturday, with about a hundred people. I was sad and happy at the same time. My first cup of coffee I made for myself on Sunday morning was surprisingly delicious, exotic and rich. Sunday I spent mostly by myself. I am still re-orienting. The routine of going to the cafe, every day, broken. I am glad and satisfied. I know that in a week I will start to miss it terribly.
Right now, I do not miss it. I am looking at a compass, a new direction. I used the cafe to become social. I was allowed a great deal of leniency in my way of behaving. For that I am grateful and indebted. I consciously balance what I can with my insistence. I try to give way and to be considerate. Not all the time, mind you, but a general balance. Some people I can't stand next to and it shows. I withdraw or become strident. I sulk. I don't have a lot in common with many people. I don't give a shit about sports, so sport-talk is totally lost on me. Same with pop culture. I just could care less what was on TV or in an entertainment magazine. And I will let you know that, in no uncertain terms.