Insomnia Worry

Sometimes I like to sit and watch dust particles float in rays of sunlight. The activity is relaxing since no demands are made of my scant mental faculties and muscles rusty from lack of movement. I do not even have to shift my eyes. The dust particles just float there, seemingly phasing in and out of reality as they do in my perception. I have been feeling much the same lately.

The Sweet Tooth

I have an affliction known to many as "a sweet tooth".

A sweet tooth

A sweet tooth

Much like the way arthritis sets its sights on joints and madness settles in the mind, my affliction, a sweet tooth, takes root in a single tooth. Really? I am quite certain it is not just a single tooth in my mouth responsible for the strong attraction I have to sugar-laden treats. If anything, my teeth are the ones who will suffer the most. Their enamel will be stripped and when that happens, I will also be joining in with their pain-filled screams. My teeth quake in fear that one day I might forget to brush them clean of the toxic-to-teeth debris. Wait. If my teeth already quake...

 

Summertime Disengagement

 

As the weather gets warmer, it seems pertinent to procure the necessities with which to make the next few months living as a shut-in more enjoyable. There is a rush to stock up on bags of chips, soup and hotdogs (don't forget the mustard, yo). Praise be given to whatever company decided to morph Hershey's chocolate bars into little bite sized... well, bites. Those things are ah-mazing.

Curtsey for Me

"Say kids, what time is it?"

"It's time to blow my brain out." 

"It's Howdy Doody time!"

"Arg!"

She stood, hands to her sides frowning at the television. The light danced on her face. It made her seem blue. The skin around her eyes was dark. She picked up the beaten remote and tried flicking through channels. She couldn't - a battery was missing. 

Stir Crazy

The sofa was worn. In a style that could only be described as vintage and as faded a pink as clothing washed by a person who clearly does not understand the usage of bleach, the sofa definitely had a long life. It was worn and old. Large safety pins held the casings of the cushions closed and there were many scratches on the now dull polish. From drink spills to throw up, the sofa had seen much. It was worn, old and had experienced everything there was to experience - as far as sofas go.

But this was new.