Products made of cement

June 21, 2013

The clan upstairs must have gotten a deal on cement shoes. Friends, family and acquaintances bought identical clunkers out of the back of a truck, and revel in their nocturnal footwear. The heavy shoes arrive at all hours of the night, starting just when I consider heading off to bed. Vehicles race their engines in the driveway at the crown of my head, snide doors bang, gents converse at high decimals over the runoff music. The bitty dogs cuddle around me in the spare room, uncertain in the new environment. I choose to accompany them overnight, since they have a shorter fall on the frameless mattress. Should one or both of them decide to descend the mountain of pillows and disheveled blankets that cover my chilled body, they won’t break a limb. The little ones smash themselves against the crook of my bent leg or turn ‘round and ‘round on the pillow next to my head. Tyrus paces, unaccustomed to my not resting in my own bed, with him at the foot. The cat is contented, taking up the vast space since she is reluctant in the vicinity of the frisky, exuberant, herding Terrier. The screaming thunder, startling lightening that lit up the humid room, followed by torrents of rain, propelled me out of the puffy bed to check incoming and damaging, treacherous moisture that could lead to a horrific fall in the dark night. All-in-all, I may have welcomed a few hours of REM sleep and my bed head hair reflects it.

Working in isolation and spin out readily into conviction of wrongdoing. Indolent and yet not overly concerned it is contagious. Physical therapy exercises, writing, editing, chasing the dogs outdoors, addressing cards and drinking far too much caffeine which leads to three-legged races to the bathroom and take up my afternoon. “I am wasting my time” is regarded as an established fact that wouldn’t be altered without encouragement and earnest petition from the authorities. Vitamins must be kicking-in since I am generating my writing pieces at a respectable pace.