Another Day, Another $

Beep, beep, beep, beep. It was the high-pitched sound of the alarm yanking me out of my sleep and sleep is the only comfort I see for me today. Groggy, I smear my hands over my face, getting anything that didn’t need to be there off.

As I thought about what was on my agenda for the day, I stretched and cringed a little because I thought about her again. The only woman I’ve actually ever cared about. She is also the one that just left me. And for what? I don’t want to think about this. How do you stop your mind from wandering there?

I’ve got to get moving. After all, it is Monday so I have to go to work. No time to waste. Another day, another dollar, another issue, and another feat of helping someone to solve (while I try not to laugh at) their issues, as well as, help still others deal with some of the other problems of this wicked old world, like relationships, jobs, and the people relative to the problems in them. Time’s getting away!

5:50 and it’s still dark outside. Why didn’t I pick a different area of my profession, where I didn’t have to work til 9, 9:30 a.m. or at least one with a clearer, more set number of days and hours? With this schedule, I barely have time to smoke before I have to go in. They’re trying to stop my motivation but I can’t let that happen so I’m methodical with my time. I need to get in the shower. No time to waste.

Everything must flow smoothly. So, I slide my butt to the edge on the side of the bed and get my smoke together. Then I get out of bed and begin to get my head togeher, ready for this day. I chill there for 15 minutes before I take my shower. A little me time. I jump in the shower, get out and dressed, all in 20 minutes. That’s record time for me.

6:20 only 40 minutes before my first appointment and my office was still a 25 minute drive. A thought crossed my mind. For the first time in a long while there had been no breakfast being cooked in my kitchen, early in the morning, smelling up the house, just waiting for me to finish showering and get to the table.

My stomach growled slightly. It must be because of missing her cooking. Just the thought made a brother hungry. I laugh to myself. Guess I’m going to have to get something on the way. Maybe Mickey D’s.

I rush to my car pushing the garage door opener as I hurried past. The garage door creaked and began immediately aching my ears as it opened (why is something that loud, that slow, and so nerve wrecking but it’s supposed to be for your convenience). Nonetheless, I waited and once the door stopped, I pulled out of my garage and up the driveway. I always pull in backwards so it’s a straight shot out my garage.

I drive like a maniac on the highway and arrive at my office at 6:35. Record time again! I wonder if this is any indication of how my day is going to be. As, I approached the private garage that read doctors only, the doors suddenly opened and I pulled into my parking space, with my name in gold letters, with ease.

Here we go!

The Beginning of the Saint

Damn so this is what it feels like to lose love? Too many emotions swirling around in your head that your mind can’t decipher just which one it should be at a moment like this. You want to wish the worst for that person but you don’t because you hope they’ll come back. I laugh silently to myself. I guess there’s no greater equalize in the world than karma, and it just whipped my ass mentally and the physical feels like its coming. What’s real is that I deserved it and would be lying to myself if I said I didn’t.

My uncle Slick will be able to help. He’s always in situations and usually gets out of them unscathed. So I headed over, bamming on the door. No answer. I guess I should have called first. Damn unc, were are you and why is it that when I need you the most you aren’t home to help me. I guess I’m getting a little ahead of myself I mean we haven’t even been properly introduced just whatever voice you came up with in your head.

To my friends I’m known as Saint. Why Saint you ask? Because it sounds a lot better than the name my mama gave me: Saintonius Le`Ron Lewis. I really want to know what the doctors give women for the pain when they’re in labor because I don’t know if it was her medical high or her recreational high that made that name sound appealing to her. But I’m sure she had to be on something to come up with a name like Saintonius.

Ok, I need to stop that. I guess I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead then again, I never got to meet my moma so, for me, she’s really nothing more than a picture and a name, plus the stories I‘ve heard about her from family and old family friends. My mother died while giving birth to me. They said it was a sad event. She couldn’t wait to see me but never got the chance. After the hospital, I was shipped off to the slums of St. Louis to live with my mother’s brother, uncle Slick, the player of players and the one I learned all my skills from. As a matter of fact, my uncle slick is the smoothest player I have ever seen, to date anyway. Yeah, Unc was a certified veteran in the game of women. He had seen it all, done it all and had the stories and the video tapes to prove it. LOL. Old, uncle Slick, player extraordinaire and they threw a baby on him!

He took it on like a soldier though. My uncle took on the responsibility of raising a kid that he didn’t help make, which he had vowed to never do for any woman. He was a man who spent his entire childhood making sure he didn’t get any of his girls pregnant. He went as far as getting a vasectomy at 18 years old to be sure there would be no chance that the many babies women had tried to throw on him were his. I guess his sister didn‘t count and I‘m glad for that.

Tune in next week……………………..more to come on the great Saintonius!