that's mrs. mediocrity to you

Shadows play on the walls of my living room as I sit here, tired after spending the day painting one small section of my house, autumn’s golden light playing games with me, telling me I also need to trim the rose bush that has grown across the window.

i know, i know.

Life is very needy just now, whining and begging for this and for that, most of all for my attention. Attention that I had placed elsewhere, here, perhaps, or in my heart, attention that I don’t have to give to house cleaning and house painting and trimming bushes and the multitude of other chores that appear while I’m not looking.

i know, i know.

I’ve gotten better at ignoring the needy parts of life, better at focusing my tunnel vision on the spot I want to live in. But sometimes you just have to stop and tend the things that need tending. Mend the things that need mending. Sometimes, even though there is just way too much to do, it all still needs to get done.

i know, i know.

Sleep does not come easily these days, crazy dreams, bad ones, violent ones, insane couldn’t possibly be happening ones. For a while, I blamed the cold medicine for that, and for the insomnia, lying there until one a.m., two a.m., three. The sleep, when it does come, just as my husband gets up to start his day, is filled with images and motion and offers no solace, no rest, no reprieve.

i know, i know.

When i get up in the morning, I look at sunlight and rain with exactly the same expression. When I move through the first hour of the afternoon, my thoughts lie like ripples on the surface of the evening. I see them there, proof of some liquid sentience, but I cannot pick them up, use them for anything, they slip through my fingers. When I go to bed at night I fill my pillows with decisions.

i know, i know.

I sound like a broken record these days, this too-busy time with its long to-do list dancing through my days like these shadows on the wall, not here for long, nothing to worry about, really. Just something to distract me from everything I’m doing.

i know, i know.

You offered, I accepted.

Just a tiny piece, I said, and as is so often the case when you mutter that phrase, you get much more than you actually wanted.

So here I am, dark room, eyes wide open. No that’s not true, eyes closed, mind wide open.

Mindful, no, mind full, off to the races, thoughts circling around the perimeter of my brain, intermingled with worry, frustration, fatigue. Thoughts of sleep you only have when you cannot.

The clock is ticking, no not ticking, it is digital, but the numbers, they keep changing one minute at a time, and that is much, much slower than my thoughts.

The moon peeks through the cracks in the blinds, at this hour brighter than the sun, in my eyes, in my face, and the blinds may be closed, but still, she finds her way in.

I am awake, so very awake, digesting this slice, much larger than what I requested, staring by turns at the ceiling and the inside of my eyelids. Eyes open, I see black. Eyes closed, I see plaid, blue daisies, a bokeh of red and blue dots.

Yes, I am awake and everyone else in the world, my world, is asleep, animals at rest, birds quiet, there may be crickets but the windows are closed, it is silent. I accepted this slice not knowing how it would grow throughout the night. It is 3:30, then 4:00.

And still, I am awake and dawn is tap tap tapping at the corner of my eye and it is no longer night, the moon has run past my window, laughing, and there is the sun who I am not ready for and should be welcoming, entertaining. I hide my head beneath the covers and pretend I can’t hear that knock upon my door.

And then perhaps, one hour, maybe two, of sleep that is not sleep, but eyes closed with mind running, and then eyes open with mind foggy, and day is here, bellyaching, asking why I didn’t let it in. And sitting up, too quickly, I conk my head on the edge of morning because it is here whether I like it or not.

Ready or not.

Here I come.