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12:04 a.m.

I open my eyes – close them, certain I’ve seen that time before.

I had been roused from a dream – a recurring dream of navigating myself and my son across jagged rocks while the ocean waves came dangerously close.

Pushing him along and up to the safest route.

The rocks are black.

The waves sweep in and over – then back out.

I keep inching along.

I decide it is important to remember this. I reach down to the floor, grasp my diary and write in the darkness.

The pen falls from my hand.

I find sleep once again.


3:49 a.m.

The room is bathed in light. If I needed to, I feel I could have left my bed to start the day – but I’m remembering long days and a stressed heart.

I need my rest.

Where is the light coming from?

I try to remember if it was a full moon.

I find sleep.

Musings from the Laundromat: ‘Green Blue and Red things’ Edition


Came SO close to not coming today.

I’ve been ill since Christmas, yesterday I felt a lot better after becoming one with the couch all day, only throwing clothes on for my weekend job.

This morning I woke at 5:30 am and ended up falling asleep again like some modern-day old lady.  Instead of reading glasses slipping down my nose and a book in my hand, I nodded off with my ipad on my chest.

I dreamed then of my keys and trying to figure out how to take my dog through a mall and outside so that she could relieve herself.

Hey, if you’re going to dream, dream big right?

My subconscious was obviously telling me ‘get your arse up – you have somewhere to be and a 4 legged manatee that can’t let herself out. ‘

I realized at my second waking – that I felt rotten.

I mentally counted how many pairs of clean underwear I had remaining and decided it didn’t matter.  I can’t relax knowing I have skipped a chore anyway.

So here I am.

Ooo!  But not after this sign I ignored – I got into the car and the first lyrics I heard were those of a Maroon Five song.

“Please don’t go …”

Of course then I sat in the car wondering if Adam Levine knew something I didn’t.

Still – duty won out.

The drive was uneventful – then at the counter I was faced with a conundrum.

The laundromat leaves their key cards on the counter for you to select one.  I usually pick yellow.  Today there were only two, blue and green.

One of my favorite people on the planet favors the color blue, another, green.

What should have been a simple task of just grabbing a card became an internal conflict.  Felt like I was picking one person over the other rather than a piece of plastic.

Yes, this is how my mind works (or malfunctions?) all the time.

I picked this one.


I hope the person who loves green doesn’t see.


Found this in my sons pants pocket …


It’s a good thing I check pockets.

Last week I found his debit card – which made me wonder if perhaps the time to stop doing your child’s laundry for them is when they OWN a flipping debit card.

I have no idea what the ‘thing’ is.  But judging from the three tiny batteries inside, it’s probably good I rescued it from a certain watery death.


I’ll ask him when I get home.  I won’t be able to sleep tonight not knowing now.


Clothes are now in the dryers.

It’s become ever more apparent that I’m under the weather – as my OCD is accompanying me on every small mission.

I picked dryer number 43 and dryer number 45 for the honor of participating in my task at hand.

Because I’m 44.

These next 30 minutes had better go fast, because I’ll either fall asleep at this table, with my head on my ipad – or start arranging the laundry carts according to color.

I think definitely I need more rest.  After I clean the house – and discover what the ‘thing is.

Unless I hear a song with the lyrics: “Don’t clean” or “Don’t worry .. about a thing”

Wait – isn’t that Bob Marley??

He liked green too.

Sleep deprived Buttery post

I could have sworn it was Saturday this morning.  It really ought to have been.  Nic was off for ‘April break’.  What IS that?  And why is it only one day? 

Anyway – I slept like a baby last night.  Woke up every 2 hours upset with something or another.  Not quite screaming.

Drama + Butters + Sinus Tachycardia + son chatting on his ipad = no Z’s.

(I mean, he was seriously chatting – full on – carrying his conversation buddy around the house. In a moment of delirium, I actually thought a girl was in the bloody kitchen with him.  Then I sussed it out.)

ANYWAY (she says again, and this time she means it)

My pitter pattering heart has been trying out all kinds of fun new ways to present itself to me lately.  ‘Ben Gay like warmth’ feeling … left armpit pain … then last night, it got sassy on the drums … brrrrrrrrm, burr, brrr-bump.  And then something in my chest grabbed a tambourine and started showing off.

A friend taught me to cough to get myself back into rhythm – so I lay there, coughing like a dork.

THEN there’s Butters.  Oh Butters. 


Don’t let this image fool you.  She does. not. sleep!

For two weeks or so – every few hours from 9pm until my alarm goes off at 6am (not that it’s had a chance to go off for the last week), she stands inches from my face and whines and wags. 

I get up, let her out – and then leave the flipping front door open so she can get back in. 


You see the crack?  And you’ve seen her nose – so seriously, WHY can’t she ‘nose’ her way back out?!?!  She sure as hell can do it when a cat walks w/in a mile of the house.

I might as well just put an ad on Craig’s List inviting any local wackos or serial killers to my insanely unsecure house at night.

“Come on in! Doors open!  I’ll just be in my room, trying to sleep.  Be as quiet as possible when you kill me.” 

Why does she sleep inside?  Our fence is chicken wire basically … I think intended for really apathetic, frail chickens.  And we have coyotes out and about. 

In between the fun excursions to the flipping door – the tiny snatches of sleep I grabbed onto, (which, resulted in nightmares) Waking up to Nic church mousin’ around the house and my heart getting all excited, I woke up (pffft … didn’t really ‘wake up’ so much as ‘give up’) none too pleased.

I tried to have a chat with her.


She didn’t care.  She assures me she’ll be doing it tonight too.  And the night after that, and the night after that. 

And the thought occurred … when she’s older, and not energetic  – probably I’ll miss the spry insomniac that she used to be.