Читать книгу Saluki Marooned - Robert Rickman - Страница 9

I woke up the next morning to an ugly buzz followed by the Chicago song “Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?” on WIDB, blaring out of my clock radio. I skipped the usual morning grogginess, the lingering over the coffee, the perusing of the newspaper, and went directly to stark raving terror. Today I would face Demonic Algebra, Sardonic Harry, who knows what horrors in the Radio & TV Department, followed by abnormal psychology—which I could easily identify with—and finally earth science, which I didn’t remember taking in the first place. And in the midst of my heebie-jeebie-filled day, I planned to go to Admissions and track down Catherine.

I fumbled for my Coke bottles and found them resting on the black book opened to this passage:

Five percent of your life is a surprise, while the rest is merely routine. Take comfort in the predictable.

Routine. Yes, that made sense; this would…should be a routine day for me. I got up and opened the drapes, and was faced with a quiet Thompson Point morning, with the sun in a cloudless sky and dew sparkling on the grass. My eyes caught a birdhouse gently swaying in a tree. I stared at the birdfeeder and forced all thoughts about Harry, my classes, and Catherine out of my mind. Soon, my brain was primed to intensely study the next bird that appeared at the feeder. I waited for it to arrive, and worked to keep my mind empty—no thinking, just watching out for a bird.