The mind is a terrible thing…

One to three am. Ceiling time. Shakespeare couldn’t put these plots together. Temporary horizontal insanity. The worry bones need rubbing. The topic is irrelevant. It’s the same feeling every time, intensity never varies.

The mind starts crying wolf and you better listen buddy boy, because tonight, tonight, let it be Lowenbrau.

This is way worse than the others, ya know. Better start folding the tent and get into the defensive position. Mercy!

Let’s amp up the gut sensations and the cortisol. Another fire drill shall we? But where’s the fire? We thought this was going to be the big one. We’ve been doing this since the crib. Why should we listen anymore?

“Because, Bob, this is the one. The big one. That last little worry drill was just that, a drill. So let’s hunker down, shall we?”

Remember your mother sitting at the kitchen table at 2:00 am with her hands folded and those worried down eyes? She was racked. Frazzled. Beaten. You didn’t understand. But now you do… all of a sudden.

So what was it last night? The air conditioner. Why? Because it’s been running 24/7 for the last three months in my little shoe box apartment.

I’m afraid it will crap out and the landlady will not replace it because she found out I’m leaving and I will be forced to suffocate…because…because…. ugh, I can’t breathe.

Well that was convincing, wasn’t it? Good job. It never quite gets here does it? At least not in the five alarm fashion you advertised.

But then there’s always the existential threat of “what will become of me?” Oh boy! Can’t wait for tonight.

Not to worry, it’s on the way. 🙂