One Hour

Yesterday 3:30 pm arrived like a pimple — sudden and unpleasant.

I need to be somewhere at 5:30 pm. In the car at 5:00 pm. Preparing what I needed at 4:45 pm. Shifting my focus around 4:30 pm.

In other words, I had one hour.

One hour and at least ten more items on my daily todo list.

I wouldn’t admit it to myself, but there wasn’t a prayer in the world I’d get through them all.

I could’ve started hurriedly chipping away. A rushed email here, a frenzied proofread there. It would have been sloppy, but at least I’d enjoy that hundredth orgasm from checking the box.

I could’ve, but I didn’t. I made a different decision.

Instead of rushing through it like a 4th grader putting the final touches on a half-assed George Washington diorama — I took a deep breath and went for a walk.

I grabbed Leão, and we walked into the forest. Underneath the treetops, hidden from the sun the air was still crisp.

I took out my phone and called a friend I haven’t talked to in nearly six months. It was a social call, and it wasn’t.

After catching up all most important things in a 30-year-old life — relationships, jobs, the struggle to be somebody — I made him a proposition.

Let’s start a new project together. A screenplay.

A full-length feature comedy we decided.

Why not? Fuck it, right? If not us, who?

We agreed on a few next steps and hung up.

And so, in exactly 58 minutes and 32 seconds, I’d begun a new adventure with a close friend.

Much better than one hour spent speeding mindlessly through todos.

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