Moping

Springy has been gone for 29 hours and already my apartment is reverting to its native state of nest-like disarray. I don't mind, it really; I don't even see it when it's just me. It's functional, if slightly embarassing.

Shoes lie like fossil footprints, remaining days later where I stepped out of them. Blankets hunker touseled on the floor. Here is my squashed pillow and computer detritus, on the footstool. Cups and mugs, remote controls, DVD cases cracked open like dead mussels cast on the beach.