It’s Sunday. I usually leave this to be the most self-indulgent of all my days. I do only what pleases me best or is absolutely unavoidable. 

Today I ran 6 miles, scrubbed the kitchen floor and other much needed chores. Then, inexplicably, I started listening to reggae; something I have previously never done without the incentive of pleasing someone who would then give me amazing sex. It’s Caribbean oompah music for Jah’s sake. Bleh.

I have no means by which to explain the progression of events. Blame it perhaps on a moderate dose of emotional whiplash and uncommonly powerful and sudden onset attack of nostalgia. 

Whatever the case, it’s made me feel the approach of Monday might come as welcome respite from my capricious mind, for once.