This morning I have off. I slept in until 9AM, which is about fifteen minutes of extra sleep. I read a couple e-mails on my Palm and didn’t reply to them, maybe later… Then I spent a half hour on my couch reading. Time for some breakfast, I put some waffles down into the toaster. Looking at the clock I saw it was twenty until ten. I told Katie to call me before class, and her class was at ten. I thought she’d jump the gun and call me earlier than 9:40am, so I called her, hoping that she wasn’t still asleep. She wasn’t, she’d been up, and her class isn’t until eleven. We talked about this and we talked about that, while I pulled peanut butter, cheddar and hot sauce from the cupboards and fridge and waited on the toaster. The waffle made, and the cordless between my ear and shoulder, I listened and ate, and noticed that purple note again. This purple note has been under the wiper blade of one of the young guys that lives across the street. Sometime in between Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning it appeared there. As I looked at it from my kitchen window, some chubby kid with a sweatshirt that has “Get It Done” printed on the back walked down the street past that car. His head swiveled, eyes drawn to that purple note. I hoped that he’d stop and look, living my dream. He passed on. Darn. Ah, but wait, he stopped after the car and looked back. That cat’s curiosity had been peaked, he’ll go back I know it. Nah. He turned and walked on to get it done, whatever it was.

Katie was about to get a bath, so we hung up. I finished my waffle and that Bolthouse drink I had in the fridge. I’m not going to sit on the couch and watch millionaires live my dream playing a game on the TV anymore! I went downstairs, out the garage, across the drive, and into the street to the car.

I’ve had only four types of things left under my windshield. 1) Advertisements, aka trash 2) Informative literature, 3) Incredibly positive messages, 4) Incredibly negative messages. In the matter of personal correspondence left under windshields, there is no moderate notes. The lithium Zen is unknown in the realm of windshield notes. My mark was certainly not a piece of advertisement or literature, it was clearly a personal note. It was purple. Either the purposeful pick of a female or the availability pick of a male. I was about to acquire a peek into the private life of a neighbor. Windshields, the vulgar public forum.

“Happy Easter”?! What a frickin’ let down. It’s a stupid little napkin that says “Happy Easter”. No hints of revenge or hopes of a tawdry rendezvous. I walked through a dirty garage floor in my bare feet and than a even dirty garage floor to a painful driveway and a even more painful street for this? Well, I’m going to touch the note while I’m here. Hrm, turns out it’s a envelope, not a napkin… It just looked like that because it’s fairly damp. Rain has been falling off and on for days. That’s a little bit more exciting, but if the message says “Happy Easter” chances are the message on the inside doesn’t mention murder or love. I went back inside. I am Jack’s early morning disappointment.