The Sinking Sun

The cat is crackling like a fenced off hydro station. Despite the steady hum of the humidifier the place is as dry as dust and the microfibre couch is only exacerbating the problem.

The world can seem like anything you want it to be before anyone is up. The quiet streets don't give you any sort of impression about the type of day it will be and the lack of pedestrians just means that if I wanted to I could have some time alone with the universe. It could seem like a happy place, full of potential, or it could seem to be a bleak and empty place, cold and without anything important to say.

I got to the pick-up point first, yesterday, but I still didn't get picked. The employers don't know how eager you are and don't know how hungry you are and don't care that you thought it would make a difference to be early. They just look at you, standing like sheep ready for shearing, uncertain and hoping they mean well. I'm a little old for this and I guess that's why I don't get picked much. Sometimes, if I don't get picked, I trudge home and sip some weak coffee until about nine and if I'm lucky the temp office will phone and there will be some cleaning or some deliveries to do. I have an appointment later this week at the grocery store for a job in the receiving department. It only pays seven dollars an hour but at least its steady.

I've been wondering if I should move up into the city. One of the guys I worked with last week used to rent a room in a house downtown and he said he only paid three hundred dollars a month for it. You don't get much with it but I don't need much, really. What I do need is more opportunities.

I guess I don't need to be up so early, either. Its nice, though, out here at this time. So quiet I can hear the traffic from the highway two miles away. I can imagine the people who are filling it full, driving with an intent, into the heart of the city, with a self reliance that must feel good. They wake up every morning knowing they're needed and that they're good at what they do. Packing a lunch and being early to work, just to straighten the desk and get a coffee before they sit down to decide what needs to done first. Maybe they make a spreadsheet and then call a few clients, schedule a meeting or two and then they get together with a few people for lunch at the restaurant on the corner. Driving home, they curse the traffic and the sinking sun as it blinds them, but when they pull into the driveway and see the kids playing soccer with some friends, in the yard, they understand why they do it and feel a sense of accomplishment.

The cat is happy to see me. I think he gets bored here, by himself all day. He's still trying to dig his toy out from under the cushion. He gets so wound up by the stupid thing. He doesn't know and probably wouldn't care, even if he did know, about the shock he's going to get when he touches his nose to the fridge door as I open it for the milk. Sometimes its better not to know. I think that, when I die, I want to come back as a cat.