This morning WhiteFeather was waiting on the railing of the parking lot at 6:45, when I made it to the kitchen to start my coffee. I looked out the kitchen window and he was just sitting there like a sentinel. Mark usually goes down to feed the crows, but he wasn't here this morning, so I put on some pants and carried the hot-dog-weiner and a handful of peanuts downstairs myself. WhiteFeather waited till I was well out the door before he flew away, which was kind of him, most of the time he hears the door of the building opening and takes off before I can see him.
The crows made short work of their processed meat breakfast snack, and there almost wasn't any left when I got back upstairs to the window to watch them. WhiteFeather had been and gone, and two identical Mister Blacks were stuffing slices of hot dog into their beaks like greedy little children.
I've been having a lot of trouble eating for the past few weeks. I'm just not hungry very often. Breakfast is easier since it is a habit, and even though I don't really want it I eat my egg sandwich every morning anyway.
Everything is really just very challenging. Making myself shower, making myself eat, making myself look at my email. I know I have to be at the Bakery by nine to let the workman in, and that's pretty much the only thing I do all day that isn't difficult - heading out to go to work. I can't fucking wait till all this preparation is over and I can get back to baking bread.
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