I did it again. I once again turned off the pesky alarm and woke with a start–THIS time at 7:20 in the morning, even WORSE than yesterday’s debacle. I don’t even know what’s wrong with me, other than my new hormonal situation (aka I’m old) means I awaken every night at what I assume is 3-ish. I never look at the time when I awaken. They say to not look. Someone once told me that “they” are the Van Pattens, which was probably funnier in 1982. Let’s say “they” are the Kardashians. Anyway, I’m always awake for awhile after I wake up in the middle of the night, which probably screws me up when the alarm goes off.
You know what’s awful? Is when you’re trying to make yourself go to sleep and you hear the birds start to chirp. Now that’s awful.
You know what else is awful but it’s going away? Those water bottles people used to use that had the little push-pull tops, and they’d KEEP THOSE ON, which, why? And then every time they took a drink they’d make this
sound that sent shivers down m’cockles. Why do you need that top? Just drink from the damn bottle.
Those seem to be going out of style, the sucky bottles. Now everyone has those long tin canteen things like they’re planning to leave work and hike the Himalayas.
I have no idea how I got off on this tangent.
My ADD is worse than ever lately. At Christmastime, my favorite FAVORITE time of year, I bought a really nice-smelling candle at a gallery in case anyone just showed up with a gift for me. No one did, because everyone abhors me, so the good news is I got a really nice candle out of the deal. They’re made locally and I want to go kiss that candle-maker flush on the moth.
On the moth. Goddammit.
My point is, I noticed this morning that last night I got out the matches but never actually lit the candle. I think someone as forgetful and scattered as me should not be allowed candles. They should give you some kind of test before they sell it to you, like with guns. …Do they give you a test before you buy a gun?
And by the way, those matches are from Chris and Lilly. I asked if they had any matches and they gave me this enormous box of those long, strong kinds of matches, and I was expecting just a tiny floppy book of them, you know? So now I owe them matches, and who doesn’t have THAT dilemma?
Do you have Monday off? I mean, assuming you work. We do, and I am glad of it. I’m certain I’ll spend the whole day thinking about Martin Luther King, as we are supposed to do. Maybe I’ll sleep late and have a dream.
Anyway, I have to once again leave you to go have lunch, and I hope my screwy sleep schedule isn’t going to become a habit because each day that I can’t wash my hair when I shower is another day I look insaner. I look like someone who’d get out matches but not be able to pull the trigger on lighting an actual candle.
Scatteredly. Matchlessly. Kissing you on the moth.