rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Reset Thirty-Five, Day Thirty-Two

Friday I spent almost the entire day in bed. It was not intentional. In fact I got to bed by five o'clock, and had hopes that I'd sleep well and be up by early afternoon, but instead I tossed and turned for over an hour, and didn't finally fall asleep until morning light was leaking around the blinds. Then, around half past ten, came the phone call. It wasn't a spam call this time, but an important one, and it commanded my attention for about ten minutes. Although I was somewhat awake after that I was still very tired, so tried to get back to sleep, and that ended up taking over an hour again. So, what with delay and interruption, I didn't finally rouse myself until half past four in the afternoon, which gave me very little time before nightfall.

One cheerful spot in the day was when I went out to the mailbox at dusk, and discovered that fog was forming. This was not brainfog, of which I have an abundance, but actual fog, i.e., condensation, in the air. It wasn't very thick fog, but it was noticeable, and it's been so long since I've seen any that I was both astonished and delighted. The valley used to get fogs frequently every winter, but in recent years they have grown very rare, so this was a great surprise. I considered putting on my real shoes and walking down to the end of the block, but my ingrown toenail was having none of that, so I just sat in the backyard and inhaled it for a while.

Later there was a sandwich for dinner, and Internet for dessert, and lots of thoughts about lots of things which I've since completely forgotten. But I did just remember that when I woke up the second time, the first thought that came into my mind was about Dave Prichard, a metal guitarist (Armored Saint) who has been dead for about thirty years now. It seems very odd that I would think about him at this late date. I met him once, probably in 1984, in a different world. I rather liked him. I don't think he was meant to be dead now any more than I was meant to be in the mini-metropolis. The world is quite askew.

Oatmeal and unsweetened chocolate milk. Time to try sleeping again.
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