Kerry Says

I had one of those mornings. The ones where you get up and you think you detect just the slightest sense of purpose skulking around in the deep dark recesses of your soul.

I cultivated it as best I could. Actually bothered to scrub the schmutz off my feet in the shower, used the blow dryer, wore nice pants. And it seemed to blossom. Yes today was a day I would get something done.

I left the house one coffee to the good and with the anticipation of a sausage McMuffin bolstering me along. I brought along Virginia Woolf for the streetcar ride and managed to get lost in it despite the chatter of morning commuters.

As I entered the last leg of my journey, breakfast in hand, I checked the pulse of my purpose. Still there, stronger even then it had been an hour ago.

But somewhere between the elevator and my desk, it vanished. I don’t know where it went. I don’t know why. But it was gone entirely. Almost instantly I was nonplussed by my fragrant greasy snack and immune to the good news that my computer was functioning properly for the first time in weeks.

Even the crossword hidden deep within my Toronto Star isn’t tempting me.

When you can’t even bother to slack off at work… that my friends is what I call terminally blasé.