Day 88: Today measure your biceps

Day 88

Today, I have to measure my bicep muscle.

I don’t really have muscle there. I’m very weak.

Anyways, this is again a wait until after work thing.

Work is boring. I don’t really remember any terrible or great customers, it’s kind of all a blur.

Oh wait, there’s one. The machine that filters the tap water is broken, so we can’t provide the free tap water. So when I tell one customer this when he asks for water, his response is confusing.

“So you don’t have coffee?”

“No, we do have coffee,” I reply. “It’s only the machine with the filtered water that’s broken.”

“So how do you make coffee without water?”

I try to explain that the restaurant does still have water, it’s just not the free water to drink. He’s confused, and this goes on for a while.

Finally he leaves, and the most confusing thing about all this is he didn’t want coffee anyways.

When I get home, I really want to take a shower. It’s been a hot day and I’m feeling blah.

But I can’t. It’s still within 24 hours of dying my hair, I can’t wash it. I probably could get it wet by being in the shower, but I don’t want to risk that.

Also when I’m home, I notice something really sad.

There’s been a bird in her nest outside the house for the past few weeks. I’ve even seen the eggs in there when the bird was gone—I’d never actually seen eggs that were that bright blue.

The bird was letting us get within a few feet of her without attacking. She was trusting us.

And today, I come home to see the abandoned nest sitting in the driveway with the eggs completely gone.

I tell my dad and he says that something got them. Probably ate them.

I want to cry. I know it’s part of nature, but I thought that I was maybe going to see those birds hatch. I’d looked forward to just seeing that nest and the mother bird in it every day. But now, they’re dead.

I hope the mother bird was away and she’s safe.

At the same time as I’m upset, I’m thinking that I should include this in some book or story I write someday. Birds are always deep important metaphors.

But right now, it’s not a metaphor. There really are dead baby birds. And that’s sad.

When I do manage to measure my bicep, it’s 12 inches.

According to the book, this is average to good.

Okay. But I’m pretty sure that’s mostly fat, not muscle. As I said earlier, I really don’t have muscle there.

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aw I remember that nest.
there isn't one in the bush this year.