Sunday afternoon. Both of us are in the office in the back of our apartment, using our computers. My husband is listening to The Tossers on Pandora, eating a cupcake, and drinking a cup of hot tea. My cupcake is long gone, my cup of tea still too hot to drink, and I'm giving unsolicited opinions about the songs as they come up.
The windows are wide open, the sun is pouring in, and across the street, a family with a mom, dad, two boys, and a little girl are walking away. It's in the 60s today and it seems like the populace of Minneapolis is out to enjoy it. The grass is green, but the trees have not budded yet. There's a window right in front of my desk that opens up to the road in front of our building and most of the traffic today is pedestrian traffic and bicycles.
He finished his cupcake and has gone back for one more. The music has switched to some annoying instrumental with an obnoxious string instrument (mandolin? banjo?). The birds are chirp chirp chirping outside my window. Randomly, our resident manager just started the lawn mower and I guess he's cutting the grass. I don't know that there's enough grass to be cut, but I don't make these decisions.
The shadow of a tree is stretching out across the road I'm looking on. It's sinister, with its angular limbs outlined in sharp contrast with the bright midday sun creating a malevolent umbra in the shiny happiness of the day.
Hipsters on single-speed bikes ride by, ignoring the stop sign at the intersection and nearly colliding with cross traffic. The horn of the blue mini van can be heard over the roar of the mower from below. The sun glints off the cars parked on the street. While the mower is temporarily shut off, the noise of a plane circling around the city and the hum of far away traffic fill the air. The scent of freshly cut grass wafts up through the window.
There is no other place I'd rather be.*
*Jesus Jones, of course.
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