Only Borrowed Weather

Mom has been quite a handful all evening, keeping me busy. Now that she freely mingles dreams, memories, and reality, it's often difficult to figure out what she's talking about. Throw her tinnitus into the mix and it's even more confusing. Over the last few hours she's thought she's heard the people next door singing, a baby crying, somebody delivering a new mattress, and any number of other events. She's got a pretty busy imaginary life. My busyness occupies a merely real life, which is probably nowhere near as interesting. But then, my chronic shortage of sleep might eventually begin producing hallucinations, which would bring a whole new kind of interesting.


Oh, and unintentionally falling asleep for five hours with a half-written entry on the page? Maybe that's a new kind of interesting as well.


( Sunday Verse )

Late Again

Didn't wake up until five o'clock this evening. Later, I saw one of the feral cats limping away from my front yard and across the street. I hope that Alger, who was on the back porch, had shared the food with him (or her— I couldn't tell if it was the male or the female.) Alger was all meows and no hisses this evening, and couldn't wait to get petted. He's become seriously interested in the inside of the house, and peers through the door every time it's open. I'd let him in but I'm afraid there'd be a huge confrontation with Portia, who has a prior claim, after all. And as friendly as he's getting, Alger is even more of an underfoot cat than Portia is. If I had both of them to deal with I'd get tripped for sure.

I wish it would stop getting so late so early.