The bell jingled as we crossed the threshold to one of our favorite stores. The afternoon sun warmed the drafty building, and the floor boards creaked in a nostalgic play for charm. I studied the glasswork, the pewter trinkets, and the prism-strewn jacquard lampshades before moving toward the fanciful figurines. We were Christmas shopping, but it is a shop of such a whimsy that works to entice the dreamer, and I was well pleased to be in such a place.
I picked my way through the capricious nooks and breathed deeply, contentedly, as the dust motes sparked in the ambient light. My services of council were to be offered there, as they are often acquiesced in the gift-giving occasions. I can't say if it is that I have good taste or that I am excessively skilled at spending other people's money, but why split hairs?
I sharpened my gaze as Mom and the shopkeeper spoke gaily, laughing at nothing and everything, and found treasures of interest. I did not join in the merry exchange, but found the stony set of my mouth cracking and turning upright at the corners. How infectious it is, the chords of glee. But, I would not be deterred from my mission, and clasped my mother's elbow, leading her back to task.
She raised both hands to her face and pressed them to her cheeks as she oohed and ahhed over the objects of my interest. Fifteen seconds had not passed and she was asking the shopkeeper to wrap them up. The shopkeeper was rather giddy too, and exclaimed, "You guys are ALWAYS such good shoppers!" Mom and I smiled nervously at each other and looked toward the ground and our scuffing feet as she twittered on. I don't know if it's something to be proud of, really, but yeah, I know how to shop...
Sleep doesn't come so very naturally to me these days. Sleeping alone has its drawbacks, apparently. I try not to abuse Tylenol PM on a daily basis, and warm milk sours on the tongue overnight...though, I haven't tried warm soy milk now that I've made the switch from dairy...but that's another story for another day.
I often find my thoughts scattered and lacking common thread in their random stitching. I am prone to tangents as a rule, true, but these are like tangents-squared! This is the mind of a sleep deprived individual. Now that the magic of cable TV has reached my humble abode, I take part in its splendor.
Television amuses me only marginally, thus making it boring enough so as to induce my slumber. But, you have to choose your programs carefully. As I climbed into bed last night, Pretty in Pink Sixteen Candles was playing. I watched it for awhile...then decided that I'd never fall asleep watching this movie because, do you remember the size of that birthday cake at the end? Of course I'd want to stay up and see the cake...and the movie was only beginning.
Next, I found The History Channel delving into the making of the first Star Wars. Well, the fourth, really...but the first one they filmed. Subject matter I was familiar with? Check. Lack of expectancies for on-screen cake? Check. Good to go, I set the timer for thirty minutes and lowered my cheek to the pillow. I was awake again ninety minutes later.
I came upstairs, brushing my teeth and washing my face before realizing that it wasn't morning yet. Yes, my level of "awake" after ninety minutes of sleep isn't distinguishable from the way I usually feel in the mornings, leastwise the last two months. Awake to the widest degree, I returned to my room and read cnn.com. Woo. I live it up at regular intervals such as this.
Sighing deeply, I crawled between the sheets once more and grabbed for the remote control. The History Channel was now discussing Fatal Attraction, and I found it to be a poor choice for a bedtime story. I flipped through the channels at least three times complete. Wonderment shrouds me often that such an array of channels can exist in the galaxy of cable television with none of them airing anything interesting.
Finally, I found Rachel Ray on the Food Network. I set the timer for thirty minutes once more and tried to relax. The TV turned off well before I did...wide-eyed and frustrated, I watched the minutes pass on my digital clock. By 1:30, I began entertaining myself with an imaginary tale. By 2:30, I remember feeling so thoroughly entertained by my story that I couldn't sleep...and when I stirred at quarter to five, I remember thinking that it was a really good story, but if only I could remember it.
I entered the bathroom...washed my face, brushed my teeth...looked at my shadowed eyes and wondered when, if ever, the sanity in my life would return.
