Mar 10, 2008
Im my dreams, there was a mattress.
At 3am this morning I was lying on my kitchen floor, the cat confused and crouching near my feet. I was wrapped in a blanket and clutching a far-too-flat pillow.
The futon angles back so it's impossible to sleep. The bed was occupied by a snoring, sniffling, mucous-fest who refused to put on a BreatheRight strip. The house is still being renovated, so there is no spare room.
Just a kitchen floor.
It's hardest to remember to live peacefully when you're surly -- in my case, going on no sleep into the office to somehow craft relevant prose, rubbing a sore back and nursing a host of hurt feelings. One plastic strip could have ended it all... instead I was relegated to the linoleum, making shapes move across the shadowed walls with my hands.
This photo reminded me of the early-morning silhouettes I made to pass the time. And of happier moments to come... and sleep. Perchance, to dream.
The futon angles back so it's impossible to sleep. The bed was occupied by a snoring, sniffling, mucous-fest who refused to put on a BreatheRight strip. The house is still being renovated, so there is no spare room.
Just a kitchen floor.
It's hardest to remember to live peacefully when you're surly -- in my case, going on no sleep into the office to somehow craft relevant prose, rubbing a sore back and nursing a host of hurt feelings. One plastic strip could have ended it all... instead I was relegated to the linoleum, making shapes move across the shadowed walls with my hands.
This photo reminded me of the early-morning silhouettes I made to pass the time. And of happier moments to come... and sleep. Perchance, to dream.
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