I live in limbo every single day. To stay here, or should I go? To live forever here, or should I only live here the length of my year-long lease? To reclaim my D.C. life, or should I embrace my Florida license plates as permanent?
To be single, or should I remember that I am still legally married?
To go home, or is home here? And who can ever really go home again?
The staff at my restaurant talked today of April Fools Day tricks and foolery. Have everyone call out. At 4:30, let’s all hide and make our GM think no one is here. When I left at 5 p.m., neither April Fools Day prank had played out. This was a good thing. Mostly, I despise April Fools Day.
This evening, I walked my dog. I met a friend for a drink. And as I drove him back to his car and made him promise not to drive for at least two hours, I thought this: I must be the April fool. I am driving someone back to his car because there is nothing more than this.
I should be home.