Cherries and Strawberries
I will never eat cherries and strawberries before bed again. I woke up four times last night, four times. The second time I couldn’t get back to sleep because my dog, Dexter kept walking around, click, click, click, his uncut nails. Right now, his body maintenance rivals my own. Ear medication, leg medication, off and on hacking. His 14 is my 61. I don’t hack but my knees creek with a good bend. The third time I stayed awake wondering what I would do if Gunter died. The kids and I would be ok, but I have managed the fine art of being completely unemployable. Yes, the final wish of every artist. I manage the kids; Gunter manages everything else. I made a mental note to ask what and where “everything else” is tomorrow. I tried to step back from the hamster wheel my thoughts had managed to find themselves in, yelling at my brain a bit. Telling my brain that what I’m thinking about now makes no difference on the outcome. Right now, nothing matters, there is no pay back at the moment, so, just, stop. We agreed to slow the spin if I got up and took Tylenol for my newfound headache. Then I went back to bed and started to spin the idea of what I would do with his in-laws. I imagined pure carnage and that calmed my brain down enough to branch off to thinner thoughts till images in my head became unrelated and spontaneous. The true sign that sleep is on its way. The fourth time I contemplated staying up, the dog’s snoring kept me up and I imagined getting him a C pap machine. I put my C pap machine on and did my usual pretending that there is some kind of drug in the water that I put in which allows me to fall asleep. It works, one of the few benefits of having a suggestable mind coupled with a ridiculously overactive imagination.
I remember my report card in grade four saying that I was always staring out the window daydreaming. My world was always somewhere else. The details of this daily existence were always beyond me, and every now and then I am reminded, by cherries and strawberries.
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