"Today I will buy my first colander."
It didn't cross my mind, this thought, when I crawled from the scratcher at half ten for a day completely unplanned but somehow you join the dots between morning interwebbing and standing at the checkout in Dunnes Stores, 'Foggy Dew' in one ear and the teller in the other, asking for five of my europounds.
I got soundtracked through the city's garden party ambience by The Dubliners, by The National, by Neil Young and by Mylo.
I've looked on the town with gloom recently and a mind cluttered with thoughts of having to be in too many places for too many chorish things, the word 'should do this' and 'should do that' framing my annoyance at every little thing, every small sound and each bad habit come to the fore purely for my irritation.
Hence my week off, some time spent away, and fuck if it didn't work because I couldn't have cut a more relaxed figure, browsing the kitchenware section for things I'd probably forget to use.
Instead of tramping my way around in a fugue of my own thoughts I took in barbeque smells on South William Street, fine looking women wearing sunglasses too big for their faces, an abundance of Barcelona jerseys. I counted a thousand pregnant women, they seemed to be everywhere so I wondered textually, "am I getting broody or is there a baby boom?"
I moved out of the way for buggies and old men, saw a young girl pause a moment outside The International Bar before heading back for more. I thought about a pint or a glass of wine but went for a coffee on George's Street, scribbling words purely to look artful.
I caught the eye of an older woman before I realised she wasn't that at all and I cursed for the first time when I thought my music player was on the fritz. Reset button.
I bought music by Jonsi but decided not to play it for a while, Sigur Ros sound perfect for football promos and winter but not this day, the least glacial of the year.