today's weather: S L I G H T . D Y S P H O R I Aanxiety : 1 | agitation : 2
I woke up this morning feeling raw and unhealthy, with a faint desire to tote a BB gun and randomly shoot small living things (but not rabbits). Cats. I want to kill cats.
I hardly slept last night. Having allergies at this time of the year requires me to sleep sitting up in bed, because lying down causes nasal blockage that prevents me from breathing. It's much more favorable (for me, at least) to sleep sitting up breathing through my nose than to sleep lying down breathing through my mouth. Not only do I find it more comfortable, but I don't want to risk having a bug take refuge in my oral cavity.
I just remembered. A damn cat kept me awake last night. It meowed for the moon to come down or something. The hubby told me he found the culpable cat in a vat and couldn't get out, and was thus literally clawing for attention. I had visions of throwing cats over the wall.
I thought I heard the neighbor this morning asking our helper if he could have a cat. If he really wants one, he can have all of them.
Last night also was an unfortunate time when my mind chose to rifle through memories that I'd rather forget. Gee whiz, not again. Not those major decisions I screwed and regretted later I my life - not those kind (coming to think of it, I don't think I have many of those). It was those little carelessness in which I happened to make an idiot of myself - like the time when I was a student and I entered a classroom that wasn't mine and yelled something unbelievably inappropriate at the top of my lungs at someone I knew while everyone else was busy doing their seatwork. Darn, that thing just won't go away; I can still remember their faces. And the time in grade school when I meant to say something nonchalant but ended up blurting out a word that made me sound like a squatter in front of a guy and a group of girls I wanted to impress. Darn darn; I still remember their faces. Or the one Sunday a few years ago when I ... er, I just want to forget about it.
If I could delete memories as easy as I could delete file folders from my laptop, would I be sleeping more soundly at night? Or would I just be picking on other memories and other memeries and other memories until I no longer have any? No eternal sunshine for this very spotted, heavily mottled mind.
