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Reality has no mirror
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The nights I’ve spent trying to get to sleep, and the mornings I’ve spent trying to wake up, seem to cancel each other out. Only they don’t.
There’s a chunk of memory missing from my brain, somewhere in the middle of the night I went to the fridge and drank almost a litre of milk and then left the fridge door open. But I have an excuse. There was a power failure and so the fridge light was probably off. There was milk spilled in interesting little puddles. It created a sort of abstract impressionist (yes there is such a thing) masterpiece against the dark tiles of the floor.
It could be photographed I thought (and then copied on canvas) but getting up on a chair seemed like a huge chore. Especially after a night of bewildering insomnia, then total annihilation with a supposedly healthy herbal sleeping pill. The body rebels against its own non-conformity.
I still remember how much I hated ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go’ when it dropped, way back when I was a nightmare teen. Now, the morning after this disastrous night, it’s been running around my head like a chicken without a head. Lol.
It’s merely a summary of the situation. It’s not the situation itself. Reality has no mirror.