Don't think about it. Don't pre-suppose. Everyone sleeps when it is time.
Is my book on the nightstand? Good. Did I turn down the heat? Is the door locked? Okay. Better check the door. God forbid I might nod off and someone lets themselves in and murders me in my sleep. Sleep. How sweet it would be if a pack of roving gypsies could let themselves in and make off with my computer and I just lie here, like Sleeping Beauty, imprisoned by blessed sleep. How many days has it been? Don't think about it. Better check the door.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-two steps to the front door. This is fun! I wonder how many steps it is to ... Stop that! I can't get started with that. Back to bed.
Okay, head down, pillow exactly at half past the center of my forehead and not mashing my eyes. I hate when my eyes feel mashed. Where is my little pillow? What the hell? Leprechauns take my pillow? There a pot of gold here somewhere? I want my pillow back. Ah, here you are, sweet neck comforter. Thought you could escape by hiding under the bed. You are mine, all mine. Okay, stop thinking. I'm not thinking now.
I'm still not thinking now. Not thinking now. I'm really not thinking now. S--t! What is that horrible noise? Plunk. Plunk. Plunk. Plunk. Plunk.
It has to stop! Is that the kitchen sink? Damn studio apartment, every function smashed up together. No bear cave when I need to hibernate.
Plunk. Plunk. Plunk. All right. It's got to go. Pulling back blanket. Getting to feet. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Thirteen steps to the kitchen sink. Way too close. I'm glad I know that now!
Okay. Drip not going away. Must fix. Crescent wrench. Where crescent wrench? Toolbox under turntable. One. Two. Stop that! No more counting footsteps. Pull out toolbox. Take wrench. Go to sink NOT counting steps. Tighten that sucker good! No more drip. Not counting steps. Back to bed.
Under covers, pillow in place NOT mashing eyes. Stop thinking. Stop thinking. Stop thinking. C--p, it's like daylight in here. Did I close the blinds? Of course I didn't close the blinds. Damn street light is like a lighthouse beacon, guiding ships right down the street out there. I can hear them, freaking cars, one after another. Whomp, whirr, whirr, gone. Whomp, whirr, whirr, gone. Whomp, whirr, whirr, gone. How far is that light from my balcony? Could I bean it with a heavy bowl? I could at least close the blinds. Up again. To the window. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Okay, I'm counting. So freaking what. I count. Big deal.
Which cord? Yeah, one pulls, one closes, I'll try them both. I have to clean down behind this computer. Look at all the stuff down there! My Ronald McDonald pen! Yeah, hamburgers rot the mind but ... And my agent's card? I need to call that sucker! What time is it? I've been looking for that for ages! Three a.m. Okay, calm down. Will do it tomorrow. Still night out. Just pull the cord. Make it dark. Don't get the broom. Don't sweep behind the computer.
Well, back in bed. It'll be a lot easier to sleep knowing it's clean behind the computer now. Lots easier. Now what is it that I need to ask Victor? I made a list. I wonder where that list is now? All right. No thinking. No counting and no thinking. No thinking. Hmmmmm. Hmmmmm. Hmmmmm. Not working. If I just knew where that list was. Maybe if I find that list--no! Get a grip. Maybe if I read a little. Where is my lamp? It's so damn dark in here!
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six ...
by Mari Sloan
copyright 3/21/10
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