Tuesday, February 15, 2005

Delusional Rose of Plexus

The day began clumsily and slowly.

I very recently moved into a new home: The House of Shin and Tom + Sara = The House of Shin and Tom and Sara. The math is easy. Numerous witnesses tell me the place is haunted. Last night Shin told me the hallway is supposedly haunted. Naturally when I was in the kitchen getting a glass of water later I peered into the hallway, waiting for something to appear in it before I walked back through to my bedroom to sleep soundly.

I had to buy an alarm clock when I moved in. I paid little for it and it is loud. The sound of an alarm clock is among my top five least favorite sounds. The others: Hm. I really don’t know. Depends on my mood and on the situation. There are the qualifying voices of at least two people I won’t mention here lest I upset my karma.

The alarm clock went off this morning. I hit snooze, because it was the quickest way to stop that painful noise, and then I went to take a shower. When I got out of the shower, the alarm was complaining loudly in repeated loop. I had forgotten to turn it off. Alarmed, I ran to my room.

This is so not like me. It’s true. I’m usually the person to be annoyed by the person and associated alarm that goes and goes and goes. Not the person who is neglectful of the alarm. I hoped Shin and Tom are sound sleepers.

And then I left late for work, had to park in the Really Fucking Far Away Lot and then clock in on the opposite side of the hospital because the time clock I usually use was out of order, all for the second day in a row. The coffee, the bags, the coat, the lock on the door. Everything I touch has a slight fumble in it but not quite a fall.

These things don’t bother me. They’re just part of the clums following me around today, the askew cues. When I got here I opened an e-mail from my grandma:

I'll be anxious to see your new hair cut - is it to the ear lobe length or longer? Either way, I bet it looks good. Next time I see you, how about being a red head again - I loved your hair when you had it that auburn shade (not that I don't like it now - just preferred the red). It will probably be easier for you to take care of now that it's shorter - less to dry and curl.

Earlobe length? How about being a red head again? Is that a threat? (Though I am contemplating it.) Less to dry and curl? Curl? Do you know me?

Yesterday the disorientation began: Mark appeared in my bedroom in the middle of the night, just after I’d had a dream he was in. When I got to work I had to park in the Really Fucking Far Away Lot and clock in on the opposite side of the hospital for the first time. Mark’s dad appeared at my office door with Valentine’s Day flowers and cards. Now my grandma thinks I curl my hair.

The disorientation rocks--bring it on, gods, particularly the nice midnight and floral surprises. But curling the hair? Do I curl my hair? Maybe I do. Maybe I'm not who I think I am.

Yellow roses are in the air.

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