Last night I sent a very long detailed email to a homeschooling friend of mine who loves to draw. It was a list of four very interesting self-portrait ideas. Somehow the email didn't show up in my outbox, so I typed it again. Once again it didn't show up. So I poured myself a glass of wine and tried to breath deeply in through my nose out through my mouth.
Okay. I'm over it. Until I wake up at 3am because the cat thinks it's a grand time to go rummaging through the bags in the closet. In trying to get to sleep, my mind starts racing about the email. Wondering why she didn't receive it. Wondering how she would draw this or that. Imagining how I would draw my own self-portrait using only objects. Then I imagined various ways I could position my mother's old baby-doll in front of a mirror, in a puddle of spilled milk, with a gigantic pink bow taped to her head, with a noose around her neck and a bottle of Nyquil poured all over her.
Eventually I fell asleep. Kind of. Those who know me well know I'm a waking dreamer. Once upon a time, I even answered the phone when my father called one morning only to discover that my legs had decided to go back to bed before I did, and I had to drag myself back to the phone cradle ... "Uh, Daddy, blrglglglglgooglgb..." That was really weird. But the weirdest thing that happens to me usually happens on a night I take Ibuprofen. I'll get up to go to the bathroom and I'm really in a fog and I hear my name, and there's usually a little blond girl by my bed. Once after Josie was born there was a train in my hallway, and a wolf in my closet, and I thought Josie was sandwiched between the mattress and box springs. But when I'm not your regular post-partem nutcase, I'm just your average middle of the night hallucinator. Well, I digress. I got pretty used to the little blond ibuprofen girl, to the point I would just sweep my hands around and push her away so I could get back in bed. Last night while I was un-sleeping she was there again, but she's grown up a little. She was wearing a hat too. And it looked like she had a boyfriend, but he disappeared before I could make him out. I got a little scared, but my body was concrete and all I could do was breathe really hard and hope that would wake my dear hubby up so he could slap me. But he kept snoring.
Then the dog wanted out. So I got up and let her out and realized why she peed in her kennel last night. The door from the porch to the yard had been closed when I let her out before I "went to sleep". So she didn't want to pee on the deck, and came back in and peed in her house. Poor doggy.
I tried to send that email again this morning. It didn't work. I tried to post a comment on another friend's blog. It didn't work either. Don't tell me to go back to bed. You know better than that.
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