It
is nearly three-thirty p.m., probably. Time for Asr Salat. Probably. And me, I
am sitting in my rocking chair – this one which has become known far and wide as
my Big Comfy Rocking Chair – and I am comfy.
Well,
perhaps not known very far and wide, but this is a relatively large house.
I
insist that the part concerning my being comfy is entirely accurate, at least,
you understand.
Everything
is in order. Across my lap is my favorite wooden food tray and upon my favorite
wooden food tray sits the perfect steaming cup of tea which smells just like
floating in the womb feels, I imagine.
Also,
I am reading a short story by Henry Kuttner and it is good, but now is the time
for Asr prayer, as I’ve told you already.
I
have a theory that’s come to me – from where, I cannot say, for I never know
where the theories come from – that if I do not look up at the clock to confirm
the time, then no, I am not late. Not on purpose. I’m just lost in a good story
and a perfect cup of tea.
The
theory has a fault. I am not lost in
a good story and a perfect cup of tea. Not anymore. I am not in pain. I am not
busy. I am not even in need of food. I am sitting here, comfy and plotting and
theorizing about how to be late for Asr Salat.
This
theorizing and plotting is more effort than just getting up and doing it.
I’m
a mess!
Procrastination
will be the end of me, and my tea is cold, and I’m going to get up and do it as-
-as.
-I.
-finish.
-writing.
-this.
-blog.
-post.