What a weird night’s sleep.

I was so awake in my dreams that I feel asleep in my awake.  So if I go back to sleep will I be more alert in my slumber?  My head feels sort of dreamlike right now.  Morpheus beckons me.  All I want to do is drift away.

Yet the household around me is alert and peppy and peeping and bouncing.  Everyone around me feels ever so much more present than I can possibly be in this moment.  I feel like I am in an automatic bingo ball selector cage.  Wheeling and whirling around.  I feel dizzy in my awakeness.  Whoa.  Da room is spinning, man.  Bitchin’.

Sunday.  The day of rest…  in my house, no.  But wherever that might be I want to go there.  Beam me up, Scotty!

bingo · dreamlike · morpheus · slumber · sunday day of rest

Today started, but never really did anything else.

I guess we all need days like that that just hover in suspended animation.

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So Zill and I went to some charity event, but being a kid, she could not deal with the continual speaking of speakers.  The only speaker she is interested in listening to is her self.  And her self speaks lots.  And her self needed an outlet for her lots of speaking.

So we snuck out of the hall and into the foyer.  There we found other people who could not deal with the continual speaking of speakers.  Only they were adults.  So we hung out with this group of malcontents and proceeded to continually speak amongst our selves.  Somewhat loudly I guess, because we were chastised by someone who was able to deal with the continual speaking of speakers.

That always happens to me.  For some reason I tend to join the group of “bad kids in the back of the classroom” throwing spitballs and drawing cartoons of the teachers.  Much more interesting are they to me than the kids who sit up front with their hands politely folded.

So one of them said, in a whisper so we wouldn’t get scolded again, “Can’t you hypnotize them to stop speaking and fall asleep at the podium so they can get to the raffle already?  I want to win that flat panel TV!”

I said I couldn’t from another room, but I could hypnotize everybody in the foyer to act like disruptive chickens if they wanted to break up the show with cacophonous squawks and energetic scratching and strutting.  Nobody wanted to be poultryfied, so I left them intact.  And split the coop.

Zill and I went to check out the hotel’s gift shop and to feed ravenously from the concierge’s candy plate.  And then we hopped in the car searching for some coffee shop action.  We finally settled on one 15 miles away.  There we partied with a bunch of chess playing, caffeine-chugging codgers.

One guy had this amazing nose the size of a lemon.  You just wanted to grab that thing and honk it.  It looked very musical.  But Zill and I contained ourselves and resisted the temptation.  Because when life hands you noses, you can’t always make lemonade.  In cold season you might get a hand grenade.  Eww.

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