So I tore out of work today and sped directly to Lake Calhoun, swapping shoes in the backseat because I was too impatient for sun to even stop at home first. My outfit (springish guerilla, less bandolier*) was not the slightest bit complementary to athletic gear, so I was looking like an idiot, but I was an idiot out enjoying another nearly-warm day, so my priorities were correct.
After my walk, I rushed to the yarn store to pick up the yellow wool I ordered, and pondered the fact that on the flames sweater, the addition of yellow to red-and-black is the difference between stupidly-goth and chopper-style. This is a very critical distinction, I believe. I got home and was suddenly tired and headachy. I told Homie we should postpone our communal knitting, and went to lay down. An hour or so later, the awareness part of my brain started knocking on the back of my head, muttering something about midevening naps being really stupid, and also maybe you should get up and do the dishes or something, god! I tried to listen. I woke up enough to roll onto my back, and promptly passed out again. I began to dream that Pam was sitting in the chair at my desk, trying to tell me a story about her husband. I was intermittently lucid enough to think, goddammit, work is creeping into my dreams! and wow, i got used to the rearrangement of my room quick!. I dreamt that I kept dozing off, then waking up and apologizing for having dozed off, and telling her to go on. She’d look frustrated for a second, then pick up with her story, and I’d doze right off again. Now, anyone who has shared a hotel room or bed with me knows this is exactly how I am: if I don’t fall asleep in the interval between laying down and pulling up the covers, I stay awake long enough to contribute one or two words to a conversation, then silently pass out, leaving you to talk and talk and talk until you realize I have long since left the building. My sister’s told me several times she’ll have been talking to herself for ten minutes before it occurs to her I’ve been far too quiet for my usual self. It’s embarrassing. Anyway, I finally roused myself after two hours, and stumbled out of bed thinking fooood the way zombies think braaaains. I really don’t do well with naps at all. I retrieved Wedge’s Gyros “Meat” (100% seitan!) and tzatziki from my fridge. I didn’t have pitas, but I did have weird sprouted-wheat tortillas. I didn’t have appropriate vegetables of any kind. I heated the “Meat” in the microwave while I pried the top off the tzatziki, which had been hermetically sealed for the end times, with a butter knife, managing to stab myself in the stomach with it twice before I resorted to using my teeth. I sloppily assembled what amounted to a Greek burrito and stood at the counter eating it with cucumber sauce running down my forearm. And that was one of those moments where I was relieved to realize I lived alone, and no one was going to come walking in on that. Which is why I’m telling you? Hmm.Jenni * I cannot wait for the day that bandoliers become the must-have accessory. You know it’s close.