the chaos ensues
All week long I've been taking care of sick kids. Now it's Friday, the Christmas holiday is upon us, and I'm the one who's puny. That's what I've heard people say: "I've got a case of the punies."
I had delirious dreams all night long: I don't know what to blame them on -- the apple-cinnamon TheraFlu I drank before going to sleep, or the drill-shaped upper respiratory virus boring a tighter and tighter hole into the center of my skull. Maybe both.
I dreamed I was at Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, and this guy who blackmailed me, in the first grade, into giving him my Snoopy pencil eraser followed me around asking me questions. I felt so annoyed! All I wanted to do was paint, matching up sand tones with yellow ochre, cad white and a little bit of cad red.
I dreamed I was in high school again and I kept skipping the science and math classes (I have that dream a lot) and the principal told me I could make it up by taking an extra piano class. Only I couldn't play an actual piano (another recurring theme); I had to stand in front of a closet and slam coat hangers into a sort of xylophone attachment bolted horizontally across the back wall. It gave a whole new dimension to the idea of percussion.
I woke up sweating from both dreams. Sweating and shivering and pulling at my hair, which fortunately I'd braided tightly before going to sleep; so I couldn't tear much out.
Now I just shake. I feel all trembly, like I've got stage fright, only there's no stage; just the house and the kids to take care of, and a lot of laundry to finish before Christmas.
I had delirious dreams all night long: I don't know what to blame them on -- the apple-cinnamon TheraFlu I drank before going to sleep, or the drill-shaped upper respiratory virus boring a tighter and tighter hole into the center of my skull. Maybe both.
I dreamed I was at Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, and this guy who blackmailed me, in the first grade, into giving him my Snoopy pencil eraser followed me around asking me questions. I felt so annoyed! All I wanted to do was paint, matching up sand tones with yellow ochre, cad white and a little bit of cad red.
I dreamed I was in high school again and I kept skipping the science and math classes (I have that dream a lot) and the principal told me I could make it up by taking an extra piano class. Only I couldn't play an actual piano (another recurring theme); I had to stand in front of a closet and slam coat hangers into a sort of xylophone attachment bolted horizontally across the back wall. It gave a whole new dimension to the idea of percussion.
I woke up sweating from both dreams. Sweating and shivering and pulling at my hair, which fortunately I'd braided tightly before going to sleep; so I couldn't tear much out.
Now I just shake. I feel all trembly, like I've got stage fright, only there's no stage; just the house and the kids to take care of, and a lot of laundry to finish before Christmas.
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