Last night.
I was sound asleep. Then I heard screaming. A man, screaming, “I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU!”
I bolt up in my bed and stare at the window. My heart is racing, but my brain is not quite fully awake, but Wonder Killing: No, you know that voice. You know that sound. You’ve heard this before. It’s not real. It’s not real.
It was my neighbor watching a movie on what must be as loud as his television would allow. Continue reading
It’s not so much that he’s bigger than the chair and needs to ooze over onto other furniture, even though that’s really a big part of it. He’s really more a circus tiger than any kind of housecat.
But it’s more about the fact that he’s using the remote control as a pillow. His outstretched legs are propped up on sharp corners and hard edges. You can’t really see it, but because of the remote control and the angle at which he’s reclining his mouth is pulled back and his fangs are hanging out. His eyelids won’t even close all the way because his skin’s yanked back at an awkward angle.
There isn’t one thing about what Cal’s doing that should be so relaxing, and look at him. Bliss. I’m completely pampered in my bed — comforter to pillowtop mattress — and yet I can’t fall asleep for more than an hour without waking up covered in sweat and confused. So I’m insanely jealous that my cat could drop his head onto tacks on sticks and totally REM-out.
(Allergist visit number one happened at nine this morning. Full report to follow, because what else am I going to talk about over here?)
I’m covered in bruises.
Not little tiny ones, but the kind where people grab my wrist and go, “Oh, my God. What happened to you?” It started with just a couple, but now there’s a rather large one on the inside of my left elbow that’s getting uglier every day, and one on top of my left forearm that actually hurts. This morning stee pointed out little ones along the back of my left arm. There’s a scratch on the inside of my right arm. I don’t know where it came from. Continue reading
So, my twitchy eye. It went away, but now it’s back. It’s back and it’s mad. It wants to be heard. It wants to be seen. It used to be other people wouldn’t be able to see it if I forced them to stare at my head, but now you can see it. You can notice it. It looks like my eye wants to leave my face.
It’s my right eye. The twitch is in the upper eyelid, and it appears the twitch will go away only when I’m talking about, worrying about, addressing or thinking about the twitch. I searched the Internet and found a range of solutions, ones that started with “It’s perfectly normal,” to “…Unless it’s a brain tumor.”
The Web doctors seem to all agree that it’s caused by caffeine, lack of sleep or stress.
it’s been like this all week
Okay. Okay. Okay.
This time I’m just gonna fall right to sleep.
Shutup, you. You’re going to sleep.