It was really too late in the day to be sleeping. But I really had to hold out a while longer. Sleeping past 2 PM gives me bizarre, racist delusions. I woke up, shaking my head. School had already let out for the afternoon. It was too late for breakfast, too late for lunch. And as twilight approached, families in ranch houses set the table for dinner. Thus it began, all of it, from the mere prolonged desire to sleep. There was so much to be done still before that dreaded phone rang with the ominous news. It was realy too late in te day to be sleeping. I was realy tired. I just know that snotty barista with the bad attitude slipped me decafe this morning. tire ire. So tired I was droping consonants lef and right. I was extremely tired. So tired, nothing functioned as it should. He gave up and fell into a deep sllep. He snored. I pulled out a breath right strip from my "barney bag" my synpses misfired. My arms hung limp by my sides, unwilling to move, or budge. But something was preventing me from moving. The tiredness was reality and the other but a hopeless daydream. So it should be no surprise to you, Gentle Reader, that my thoughts will not be as organized as you are wont to. Nevertheless, bear with me, for the truth lies in between, in the very moment itself. |