Feb 10, 2005
I think I have made my dog as much of a night owl as me. I guess that happens. She goes to bed when I do. We take walks in the middle of the night. As a rule. I have a friend staying over tonight, so I tried to take Audrey to bed earlier than usual and even tried to get some sleep myself beginning at around three a.m., but she was so unruly. Fussing for hours. I finally relented and took her for a groggy stroll a little after five, and that did the trick. She's ready for sleep, and I am irritable as all get out and stuffing down the desire for something salty the way you might shove the trash down further into the can to make more room for your refuse.
I am not feeling restful or rested. I am not feeling forgiving. I have been edgy and antsy and unsettled all day, and I am not in sight of relief. When I am nervous, my fingertips go to my collarbone, poking and pinching at the bones and skin near my throat. It's a habit I've only just noticed. I've had many of them over the years. Persistent buttoning and unbuttoning of whatever buttoned shirt I was wearing. Lip biting. Wrinkling of the nose. Scratching at things with dull fingers. Folding and unfolding of the arms. I don't know what to do with myself much of the time. I live in a skin that doesn't always fit. I am almost always and nearly never hungry. I am not typically satisfied.
Is any of this Audrey's fault really?
I have no idea what I could have been. But I often daydream that it would have been more than this.
posted by Mary Forrest at 5:40 AM | Back to Monoblog