Sunday, 14 July 2002 | Some of whom have babies

Three hours of half-sleep, tangled in sheets in my muggy room, my thoughts drifting through my head like loose puzzle pieces. I repeated myself and convinced myself and found out later that none of it made much sense, except for the phrase which recurred the most: I really ought to get up now. When I finally sat upright sleepy-eyed, Martin came in and told me about the young opossum who's been hanging out by the screen door, asking to come in. I have a bad habit of wanting to welcome such creatures, even if I know that ultimately it would be bad for both of us.

I went to bed at a stupid hour last night, and I've been paying for it since. Only now, when I should actually be climbing into bed for the first time and final time today, do I feel somewhat refreshed and ready to be productive.

Earlier I went to a cookout at an old friend's house where I saw some friends from high school, most of whom are married and some of whom have babies. The cookout was actually only a few yards from my high school, and as I was looking for the right road, I went too far and ended up turning around where the giant yellow buses routinely drop off their loads. As soon as the building came into view, I was surprised by how bad it made me feel, as if it were a living creature that had somehow offended me, rather than just an innocuous building.

***

Today I looked for the Back button on the TV remote. Occasionally I feel inclined to copy and paste tangible things. Sometimes, like when I've just spilled something, I automatically think of the Undo function. That's pretty sad.