Coordinates of something not opened

No run tonight. No run tomorrow either, maybe, because I haven't decided, and the not-deciding is its own decision and I know that and I'm doing it anyway. The bag is on the hook. I walked past it three times to check it was still there. It is. The zippers are doing nothing. Good for them.

I fed the stock. Eleven Parabuthus, two Opistophthalmus, the one Hadogenes that hates me personally. Counted them twice because I always count them twice. The Hadogenes watched me count the others with what I want to call judgement but is just arthropod blankness. I talked to it. I am at the stage where I talk to the scorpions.

The buyer from the lab emailed about the last batch. Accepted. Money in by Thursday. Four thousand rand I will spend on petrol and a new UV bulb and a bottle of wine I don't deserve. I said I deserve the wine out loud to the Hadogenes and it did not argue.

Day three of not opening the wedding scroll. I scrolled past it in my camera roll to get to a photo of a moult and my thumb knew where it was without looking. That is worse than opening it. Knowing the exact coordinates of something you are not opening. I have not thought about her for more than a second today and the fact that I am timing the seconds means I am thinking about her constantly.

The thought I am not writing down is the shape of the thought before it has language. It comes when the house is this quiet and the bag is on the hook. I am not going to write it down today either. Tomorrow maybe. Or never.