Love is a many splintered thing. Sleeping deeply is so nice. An experience that I frequently forego but one I find delicious when I'm able to fall into that abyss of dreams and subconscious swimming.
But at 5 a.m. I was rudely awakened by D, frantically hissing, "Get out of the room! Now! I need some privacy."
Bleary-eyed and somewhat groggy I complied. I left the room and went into the garage where we have a tiny chair-and-TV setup and lit a smoke and waited. And waited. And waited.
By 5:30 a.m. I was wondering if D had forgotten me so I went inside to check. But nooooo. She was hanging out the bathroom window smoking. "I still need some privacy," she said. "OK, but please don't fall asleep and forget me," I answered. And back to the garage I went.
By 5:50 a.m. I figured I could go back inside and check and what do I see? D asleep in bed, snoring blissfully.
And so I climbed back into the sheets and checked the alarm to make sure it was set for 6:40 a.m. It was. And at exactly 6:42 a.m. I walked out the door to my car and drove to my abode – this single room in the back of a house on 9th Street.
And so it goes.
The rest of my day will be spent muddling through words, images and clock-watching through foggy eyes and even foggier brain cells. Ain't life grand.