I arrange my T-shirts neatly folded and crammed like library books into a cube that slides in and out of our shelf. Today, like most days when it doesn't matter what I'm wearing, I get out of bed and pull a shirt out of the cube without looking. Today's shirt: My decades-old Camp shirt, passed down from Dad. The design you can't find or buy anymore. Good one.
Today has been mellow. I'm not unemployed, even though it feels like it. My jobs are "We'll call when we need you" gigs. It's freeing, but I get itchy for someone to throw me a bone when it's been yet another a slow month.
Then bang: suddenly I'm subbing a clown class, filling in for a friend. Tonight!
I remember marching with Bread and Puppets when a friend DM'd and asked if I had considered teaching clown in the city. I replied "Not yet! But it's on the agenda."
I knew before I knew. I woke up and wore the my place where I teach.
I'm gathering my notes, and heading out towards the fun. Could be good!