Cotton-Candy Pillows
You guessed it. It’s 2:26am and I’m not sleeping (this is becoming a 2am habit). I did fall asleep around 1am after I called Doolies and she stayed on the phone until I became sleepy—I’m such a child some times. Speaking of monsters, less than thirty minutes after I fell asleep, I awoke to a baby crying in the next hotel room. The baby cried. And cried. And cried. And…you get the image. I think I might have slept the night but for the crying. As if on cue, the baby just started up again. I admit to liking children, well, at least some children, mostly the quiet ones. Since this one is not quiet and it’s not a relation, I’m happy to report that I don’t like it. I haven’t seen it, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it’s ugly, with buckteeth and a head that’s too big for its body. My suspicion, which is more of a slinking than sneaking suspicion, also foretells that it has huge bug eyes, and perhaps a horn. Not just one horn but two yellowed horns with red poke-a-dots (okay, that can’t be how you spell that word but I’m too tired to check). Its parents probably don’t even realize how scary their child is. I guess it’s better that way.
I’m going to try to go to sleep now. I’m thinking the hotel bed is too soft. It’s a specially designed “sleep bed,” with an extra soft pillow-top mattress, and pillows that might as well be made of cotton candy for all the support they offer. I have another full day of classes tomorrow, and I have a feeling that if it’s anything like today’s, it’s going to be a wearing day.
My colleague and I bought tickets to see the play “Democracy” tomorrow night after our class. I don’t know anything about it, but it’s a play, it’s off-Broadway, and I’m looking forward to it—assuming I can stay up late enough to watch it. (And, yes, that does mean I know something about it. I lied. Deal with it.)
Okay. This time I’m really going to sleep. I’m not joking this time. That is, unless the monster starts up again. In that case, I’ll smother myself in the cotton-candy pillows. There are probably worse ways to go.
(I realize my entries are becoming shorter and shorter, and I’m abusing the topical posts. But look how nice they’re organized. I like organization; it’s like collecting, only less expensive, and I can do it repeatedly, and change it on a whim. So take that, you evil, judgmental baby-hating reader!)