How do you see a discarded syringe and be bored at the same time?

I was feeling adrift and so came up with a new routine for my life.  Also, I listened to this guy on YouTube who suggested using the Voice Memos app on your phone to record an affirmation for yourself.

He said if you’re trying not to eat cake (sad), don’t talk about avoiding cake, talk about things, healthier things, you like to do.  He had an Australian accent.  Why do all YouTubers have Australian accents?

I could do that.  I did do that.

First of all, isn’t everyone surprised by how their recorded voice sounds?  Always higher than you expect?  I liked it though.  I didn’t stumble and used good inflection and diction.  If I came across my voice on YouTube, I would listen to it and be soothed by it.  Hmmmm.

So, this week’s routine:

Wake up and listen to my self-recorded affirmation,

Spend the early morning with coffee and kitty,

Walk to work listening to Hozier and people watching,

Image result for free images of girl walking in a neighborhood

Work, blog (at work shhhh), listen to my affirmation,

Walk home,

Feed the cat, listen to Hozier some more, watch TV or read, and turn off the TV.

I used to keep the TV on all night.  For company?  Thief deterrent?  Who knows.

Rinse.

And.

Repeat.

Two things about this:

One:  I saw a syringe in a yard on my way home yesterday.  It had a bright blue handle and I couldn’t actually see a needle, so I thought maybe it was fake.  I told myself if it was there this morning I’d take a picture of it.  It was.

I remember that on my way home from work Tuesday afternoon there were two young men (20-ish?) and a five or six year old sitting on the steps of the house with the syringe yard.  One of the men and the kid had the same Justin Timberlake style hat on.

Surely that kid was not exposed to that syringe in any way.

Right?

Two:  I feel like I’ve been in this routine for years!  I’m so over it already.  Am I really this boring?  It’s actually only been four days.  Monday was a holiday.  Four.  Days.  Where is my stamina?  My resolve?  My stick-to-it-ness?  This has always been an issue for me.

****

I don’t want to see the syringe again.

I don’t want to think of those boys — any of them — and the syringe together again.

I was gently pressured (?) to tell the police.  Why don’t I want to tell the police?

So, this is what I’ve decided to do:  If the syringe is still there this afternoon, I’m going to turn around, go back the way I came, and walk into the police station, which is not too far away.  I will let them know.

Boys in the possibly-fake-syringe house, you are not only potentially hurting yourselves and breaking the law, you are harshing my routine.

I might be about to harsh yours.

 

 

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