Vanished

[rejectomorph]

Wow. I watch a little bit of television, do a few chores, visit a couple of web sites, read a bit, and all of a sudden it's tomorrow morning and I'm wondering where the night went. It's an example of time flying while you're doing things of little importance. I can't be sure, memory and the haze of nostalgia being what they are, but it seems to me that, long ago, my nights were both fuller and longer. That they were longer can't be so, of course, but I remember doing much more in no more time, many times. Am I slowing down? Am I spending hours woolgathering, and then forgetting that I've done it? Do I have another personality who goes out and parties all night, and then my duller self returns, not knowing what has happened? Am I being regularly abducted by aliens? Does Sluggo hypnotize me and force me to do his evil bidding, spreading mayhem across the Internet every night? Do I unknowingly nap? Is that it? Am I a secret napper? Hmph. I'll probably never know.

In any case, the night is almost gone, and I have seen the moon settle among clouds that were like receding foam on a dark beach about to be overwhelmed by another breaker which arced across the sea of sky, and all the scene suspended in air seeming painted, but proving to be, as everything else about this night, transient, a fragile dusting of space dispersed by mere wind.