The Unemployment Days

Its free. Laying in bed is _free_. So I lay here, letting the lazy, lavishly old fan slowly pull in the cool air from my open window,over my body, slightly chilling my skin, dampened from the lack of air conditioning. Because air conditioning is _not free_. The birds sing a melody over the cliche tune of an ice cream truck. Both of which float in through my window and mix in my ears creating a distinct,comforting lullaby which lures me into a careless, unnecessary sleep. My eyes are heavy as I drift away and then come to. Because dreaming is _free_. I get up. I sit in a pleather, orange, 70's chair. My only piece of furniture. It creaks in misery as I swivel in it. Complaining of its age and that its joints aren't what they were. I sympathize. I read until the daylight streaming through my window is extinguished by a blanket of twilight and I can no longer see the words on the page. Because reading is _free_. I then start my computer and use the internet. Because my neighbors internet _is_ free.