Milking The Milkman

rigly had been thinking a lot, probably too much, he thought. this morning he sat looking out his window, partially in anticipation but mostly out of distraction. he had been waiting for weeks for a package from his mother and just the day before he finally received notice that a delivery was attempted, but he 'wasn't home.' the slip said they had attempted delivery at 1:30pm. this made rigly feel guilty because he wasn't doing anything at 1:30pm aside from laying on the living room floor, staring somewhat sadly at the ceiling. today, he sat in the window and waited for the UPS truck to pull up.

his sneaking suspicion that he had been thinking too much only dawned on him after he had been sitting at the window for some time. in fact, when he looked at the clock, his initial reaction was confusion. it's 1:30? he thought. but this couldn't be. he had sat down at 1pm. surely more time had passed. when he looked back out the window he realized it was awfully dark for 1pm. he consulted the sun. there was no sun. only a very smug moon. rigly realized he had been sitting at the window for 12.5 hours. at first he was terribly embarrassed. then, slightly amused. and finally, completely disheartened.

if i can sit and look out the window, for 12.5 hours, and not be bothered by the phone, not be drawn to the kitchen to eat a snack. and finally, not even receive the package he had been waiting for, i am indeed a very sad person. do you hate me, moon? he caught himself feeling even more pathetic for speaking to the moon. i hate people who stare at the stars and moon, he thought. fuck you, moon! he yelled out the window. and stars! look how goddamn ugly these stars are! he shouted. rigly, despite his strong wish against it, admitted then, that the stars and moon were totally fucking crazy. stop staring at me! he yelled, and shut the window.