One and a Half Levels of Hell

I hate when I’m tired at night, but by the time I get dishes done, a load of laundry going, teeth brushed, and goodnights said, I’m wide awake again. By this time, the rest of the family is asleep and I’m pacing.

The cat wakes up too and sometimes I chase him around the living room with a water bottle in a lame attempt to get him to stop yowling and knocking my stuff off the bookshelves. I guess he doesn’t like when people go to bed when he’s wide awake either. Right now, he’s pissed that I’m ignoring him and he trying to jump onto my lap as I type. When I block him with my elbows, he rubs his head against the fatty part of my leg that hangs off the edge of the chair. It’s an uncomfortable reminder and he knows it, I’m sure. I’ll be going to bed in a bit and he still has to wait until the wee hours of the night before one insomniac or the other gets out of bed and gives him a lap on the couch. Maybe he’s the reason why there are two insomniacs in the house. Maybe he’s just quiet enough at 3:48 in the morning when he knocks around by the door that neither of us realizes that he was the reason we’re again wide awake but we’ve only slept four and a half hours.

I’m reading Dante’s ‘Inferno’ in the night when I wake up. I’m at the beginning. I was going to tell you that no hell is as deep as that of an insomniac, but I would be wrong. I was just sitting here thinking, and my sleep-deprived brain just came up with six or seven scenarios that would make Spike Lee cringe. Insomnia makes any suffering tenfold, but it is not the worst hell on earth. It does make life seem more bleak, though. I’m just wondering how I will manage to get through all of the levels of hell in the night.

Wait, don’t tell me. I don’t want you to spoil the ending for me.

Today was a good day, despite the fact that I couldn’t see the partial eclipse for the ten layers of clouds over the sky. I poked a hole in my magazine in hopes I’d get a clearing in the sky and there was a thirty-second one as I was driving from the library to a friend’s house to pick up some Scout stuff. I pulled my car off the road and held my magazine up to the light, but I’m not sure if my hole was irregular or if I was actually seeing the shadow effect of the partial eclipse. I saw a little circle with what looked like a bite out of it, minus the teeth marks. And then it was gone.

If you ever get into the situation where you can check your pin-hole against an eclipse, I strongly recommend that you don’t look at the shadow through that pin-hole and drive at the same time. It may not be illegal, exactly, but the oncoming car might be a better way to focus your attention.

I didn’t exactly want to stand in my friend’s driveway with my silly magazine, so I went to her door and hoped she’d come outside with me so that we could stand in her driveway together. Neither my friend nor her son had any interest in going outside to see the eclipse. How can you NOT be interested in seeing an eclipse? While we were standing in her living room talking about the subject, the sun poked out of the clouds at least twice. Well, crap.

Then, I still had a tiny window left in the timing when I got back outside, but the clouds were thick by then. They were mocking me. I was sure of it.

And here’s one last question I have for you – Why is it that when you check the weather report and it says there’s an eighty percent chance of rain, it’s always raining and they never change that chance of rain to one hundred percent? Why?

I took some pictures to prove that it was raining, but of course, I can’t control my technology and you’re not going to see them here. One hundred percent, people! I swear on my mother’s ironing board that it was one hundred percent chance of rain.

The weather people are mocking me too. I’m sure of it.

Thank you for listening, jules