Tuesday night, watching myself

I eat some rich chocolate 90 seconds before brushing my teeth. I wear a cardigan my grandmother made for herself. I pause to listen for a second to the whisper of TV voices behind my roommate's door before hitting the thunk of the stair light switch. I file away tickets for three upcoming stage performances. I seat my ass on a block of cork on the floor for approximately 90 seconds. I become uneasy at the absence of my $60 worth of new postage stamps, write a text message about worrying that someone is stealing from me again, and find them 90 seconds later. I open a book I intend to give away as a gift and discover that I no longer want to.