Wednesday, March 1, 2017

53. Play the Tape Through
I drove two hours to a training later that day, and to the gym after that.  When I got home after 9:00, I still had things to do.  My laptop sat on the kitchen table in front of a wooden chair.  I had left it there to remind myself to get to work as soon as I got home.

In the living room a soft, oversized, blanket rested next to the TV remote on the most comfortable couch I’d ever owned. My cat was already sleeping on top of a cushion. If I settled in, he’d curl up near my neck and purr.  The dog would crawl into my lap and sleep.   “I could sit in the living room and work,” I said to my laptop. “And the animals miss me.”

NA has a slogan, ‘play the tape through.’ It suggests we predict how whatever we’re thinking of doing ends.

I said to myself, “It ends with me sleeping on the couch, remote in hand, happy in my blanky, until the next morning.  I wake up in my clothes, work not done, unprepared for the day, nasty taste in mouth because I fell asleep without brushing my teeth.”

I sat down at the kitchen table, muttering to myself, but wide awake.

Today I will play the tape through.

Needles Not For Knitting is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2017 by Ken Montrose

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at:

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