Ugh. I hate Mondays. I have no reason to hate Mondays in late August, because I'm not working, but the whole day has a negative energy about it I don't really want to have to deal with.
woke up, took a look over at the alarm clock. 9:30. That's special. Dragged myself out of bed, looking like a total train wreck, depite a solid 8 hours of sleep. Shaved, took a shower, brushed my hair and got dressed.
The transformation I undergo in that daily ritual is astounding. Especially when I skip a step or two the day before. In this case, I hadn't shaved since Friday, and I didn't get a chance to shower yesterday, because we were headed up north first thing in the morning.
I woke up an unshaven, undressed, smelly bum, and when I stepped down the stairs, I was a clean cut, well-dressed young man ready to face the world, even if my orange shirt is a bit short in the sleeves and I'm too cheap to buy a new belt so I just punched a few extra holes in this one when I lost weight.
But that's not what I'm writing about. This morning, I sat down on the shitter, and saw a book of my parents I haven't seen before: That Which We Are Seeking is Causing Us To Seek. No author on it, and it was all just photocopies or something of a handwritten original, even though it was a properly bound book. I flipped through it, and one thing stood out.
Big, handwritten letters, set apart from the rest.
Nothing Is Hidden.
Whatever that means. I'm heading downtown with Erin and Steve today, to go shopping downtown like the girly-girls that we are, even though we aren't girly-girls, especially not me and Steve. Then I think we're heading over to Morgans for dinner and whatever, I think he's having a gathering.
I guess I'll find out today exactly what isn't hidden. I'm guessing it'll be everything.