can’t sleep…must be two in the morning…the air kicked off too early…not that it’s hot in here, but my mind feels so much like a gerbil in a wheel, I need wind-down time. The wheel keeps turning with possibilities. It is as if I’m seven again, spinning wildly on that metal manic-go-round ratchet we had back in elementary school..the kind good for instant throw-up.
If ever there was a sadistic public school torture device, it was the spinning ratchet. God only knows what mental fate the inventor suffered, but I do know that whirling ponytails attached to little girls don’t fare well, nor do the little girls themselves. Many a young monster sentenced a whining female to a trip round on that UFO until in agony the wee munchkins either hurled themselves onto the ground or found the contents of their stomachs deposited there. And that is what I have been feeling- metaphorically- tonight.
Spinning….on…off…can’t sleep…round and round every conceivable scenario in the history of the known- and unknown- universe…without the ponytail…thank God.
So this is what creative writers suffer at two thirty in the morning when the caffeine that didn’t work four hours earlier suddenly kicks in- I’ll be jotting down notes on that later- and life becomes one big run-on sentence.
Sure, I’ll sleep eventually, but for now, I’m stuck in the kind of e-space where laundry never dries.
…And as this ratchet slowly jiggles to a stop, tonight’s contestant on the wonderful wheel of purgatory will spill wobbily off the wheel in search of his bed…
Mama never mentioned having nights like this, but then again, Mama probably never rode on a spinning ratchet either…