witty-remark's Diaryland Diary

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On Saturdays, I do all of my laundry and vacuum my apartment in lingerie. It’s performative, of course. A peepshow with incisions in the blinds rather than a hole to peer through. Eyes dart, darts slice as the buzz of the vacuum struggles to drown out the jazz record spinning for itself. It doesn’t fight for my attention. That’s beneath it.

On Sundays, I read about conspiracy theories. It’s the Lord’s day, after all. Or the Droll’s day, altar fall.


1:13 p.m. - Saturday, Feb. 25, 2017

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