Dear Diary...

Happy New Month.

It's the first day of February - the month of love. What plans do you have for me? Because I know I have none for myself, nor for the wife. No plans, no expectations. Perhaps a spark will come, perhaps not. I guess I'll just say that tomorrow remains pregnant.

Let the roses wilt, and let the poetry stay,
Our love’s in bills, the bills we split each day..
No grand old gestures, no orchestrated spark,
Just a hand at dawn, and the same hand when it's dark...

Enough of love. Today was a marathon. FundQuest Academy’s online classes started again this weekend, so I spent the day teaching economic theories and all things finance. It’s good money I know, and actually enough intellectual stimulation, but of course there's a downside - my weekends practically don’t exist anymore. While my friends post “Cheers to the Weekend” videos on their IG stories, I’m explaining unnecessary concepts like the "Asymmetric Corridor" to sometimes sleepy students. And next week, the in-person sessions begin. No breaks — just work, work, work. Still, I sort of enjoyed today's session, I guess I'm still a teacher at heart.

My weekends are like receipts, numbered and filed,
Each hour a new debt, and with each class reconciled.
They say “invest in yourself,” but dear diary, I’m spent,
A broker of dreams, while my own goes unbent...

After class today, I picked up a walker for my son from the Jumia pickup office close to the house. I had ordered it sometime last week, and it only arrived the pickup station a couple days back. As I assembled the walker, I felt some sort of fulfilment. My boy's legs dangled comically above the floor, still, he slapped the plastic tray and laughed like it was the best thing he’d ever seen. I took a video for our memories. It’s strange — buying things for him feels different. Less like spending, more like planting seeds.

His feet will touch the ground,
Someday, but not yet..
For now I’ll hold his hand,
Tightly, like we just met...

Before I forget, I drove past that car wash today - yes, the one you have in mind. Yes, I saw him, but it was from a distance. I watched him through my side mirror for about 20 minutes, debating whether to say hello. But then I couldn't do it. What would I even say? It felt wrong — me sitting in my car, him working. I didn't want that scene to happen - where I step out of a car to distract an old friend, trying to earn his daily bread. Eventually, I convinced myself. And I drove off without rolling down the window.

Two men, two mirrors, two kinds of dirt,
One scrubs away his pride, the other one his hurt.
Adulthood has separated, that which was once tied,
Life is the strangest journey, and we are left with no guide...

Dear Diary... It is time to sleep. Tomorrow is another day. I hope the merchants of love and romantic packages don't find me when I wake...

#SladenSpeaks #IfWordsWereNudes

I have to sleep now. Tomorrow is another day. I have classes to teach.

Hopefully, tomorrow's diary session carries a bigger spark.