Saturday, October 09, 2004
ALBINO PUMPKINS
It's an achingly beautiful, sun-dappled October day, particularly in contrast to some of the gray, damp days here earlier this week. On Thursday, after being overcast throughout much of the day, night was tucked in with a soft, cool sheet of threadbare fog. Today, though, is perfect.
Somehow, over the course of the week, there's been a Domestic Breakdown that's taken place behind my back. A coup d'etat bringing to power a new regime of Domestic Sluttiness has seemingly transpired. Furthermore, all efforts at Domestic Reconaissance have been rapidly shot down by guerilla sniper fire.
In short, it's really revolting and I feel as though I really ought to do something about it, but I'm not going to until I get a satisfactory chunk of writing done today. Unless, of course, it's too revolting for me to be able to write (a distinct possibility, in fact), in which case I'll have to get on it right away.
After being sleep-deprived all week, I feel a lot more sane and a lot more capable now that I've had two nights of solid eight-hour sleep. Well, okay, "solid" is an exaggeration. There's usually a point in the night (usually around 4:00 or 5:00 a.m.) where The Bean Bean insists on vigorously grooming my head, frantically pawing through my hair like a gerbil on a treadmill, and/or obsessively gnawing on my scalp and hair. When this becomes too disruptive, I sometimes have to put The Bean Bean out of the room. When this happens, he rounds up all of the fat crinkly cat toys and, one by one, shoves them underneath the slat below the bedroom door as Compensatory Offerings. I can hear their fat crinkly cat toy bodies crinkling and crunching away as he pushes them through. After he's slid one underneath the door, he puts his head low to the ground, and mournfully peers in at me from underneath the door. I can see his eyes glowing in the small space of the slat while he looks at me. By the time morning arrives, there's a row of crinkly toys lined up in front of my bedroom door.
When I was at the grocery store the other night, I saw an employee pulling on large blankets over the pumpkin display out front, as if to tuck them all in and keep them warm for the night. I also noticed that in the midst of the orange pumpkins there were three large albino pumpkins. They were white, with an oddly bluish undertone.
Secretly, I desperately, desperately covet one of these albino pumpkins for my very own.
It's an achingly beautiful, sun-dappled October day, particularly in contrast to some of the gray, damp days here earlier this week. On Thursday, after being overcast throughout much of the day, night was tucked in with a soft, cool sheet of threadbare fog. Today, though, is perfect.
Somehow, over the course of the week, there's been a Domestic Breakdown that's taken place behind my back. A coup d'etat bringing to power a new regime of Domestic Sluttiness has seemingly transpired. Furthermore, all efforts at Domestic Reconaissance have been rapidly shot down by guerilla sniper fire.
In short, it's really revolting and I feel as though I really ought to do something about it, but I'm not going to until I get a satisfactory chunk of writing done today. Unless, of course, it's too revolting for me to be able to write (a distinct possibility, in fact), in which case I'll have to get on it right away.
After being sleep-deprived all week, I feel a lot more sane and a lot more capable now that I've had two nights of solid eight-hour sleep. Well, okay, "solid" is an exaggeration. There's usually a point in the night (usually around 4:00 or 5:00 a.m.) where The Bean Bean insists on vigorously grooming my head, frantically pawing through my hair like a gerbil on a treadmill, and/or obsessively gnawing on my scalp and hair. When this becomes too disruptive, I sometimes have to put The Bean Bean out of the room. When this happens, he rounds up all of the fat crinkly cat toys and, one by one, shoves them underneath the slat below the bedroom door as Compensatory Offerings. I can hear their fat crinkly cat toy bodies crinkling and crunching away as he pushes them through. After he's slid one underneath the door, he puts his head low to the ground, and mournfully peers in at me from underneath the door. I can see his eyes glowing in the small space of the slat while he looks at me. By the time morning arrives, there's a row of crinkly toys lined up in front of my bedroom door.
When I was at the grocery store the other night, I saw an employee pulling on large blankets over the pumpkin display out front, as if to tuck them all in and keep them warm for the night. I also noticed that in the midst of the orange pumpkins there were three large albino pumpkins. They were white, with an oddly bluish undertone.
Secretly, I desperately, desperately covet one of these albino pumpkins for my very own.
Posted by Artichoke Heart | 1:28 PM |
