Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Sleepless
You must excuse my spelling errors at 4:20 am. Insomnia, like bad religion, had a known debilitating effect upon one's grammar.

So here I am, sleepless once more. Cat had a nice wind round and it now napping it off with Husband. I, however, am watching old movies until the sun rises and wondering if this how people took up drinking brandy.

It's also the time of night when the impossible miseries creep in:

Because I'm not working and we're living just on Husband's salary we'll end up broke, living in a fallen-down Airstream trailer at the edge of the Mojoave Desert when we're older because we have no place else to go; We'll be that old couple pulling soda cans out of dumpsters so we can afford ramen at the Qwikk-E-Mart at Twentynine Palms.

Forrest will leave me for a blond for a trust fund and who somehow belongs to the Marsalas family and I shall be alone with a cat and a resume I haven't used in years.

The quality of cat food will gradually die off and Cipher will start cheating on me with a family that can afford tuna every night.

People I used to manage will point me put to their children as an example of never quitting a job unless you've got something else lined up.

I shall start stealing kibble from the shelter cats as my afternoon snack.

Man, I'm a mess at 4:30, aren't I?

2 comments:

Kittie Howard said...

I wish I had a magic wand and could sprinkle some Tinker dust your way, but don't, so send a Hug instead! It's an old military saying that The one who controls the night controls the terrain. And so it is with night demons. I think they particularly love women because we're nesters who imagine the worst because our nest is threatened. So, yes, you're threatened and, no, you're not a mess. Can only suggest you broaden your scope as to jobs out there. You're such an intelligent and talented person. There's got to be a match. Good luck!

Duke said...

I used to see myself alone in a nursing home wheelchair sitting on the patio. Occasionally a stray cat would dart out to nibble my toes. Then one day they'd forget to wheel me back inside and a few days later find me still there with a foot of snow on my head.