For *those that have just lost their keys *those that are well-versed *inebriated ones *wanderers *mermaids *those that belong elsewhere *whippersnappers *marvelous ones *those that are not included in this classification *those that flutter because the moment is fleeting *boundless ones *those colored with slippery fingerpaint *others *those that resemble someone I know from a distance

Thursday, March 23, 2006

It's a metaphor for something, yo

Why is my bed only a haven of deliciousness when I have to be at work at 8am? Monday through Friday, my bed is dreamy, delectable, rich. The sheets are fiercely soft and warm, my blankets remind me of the sea and sky. I feel all tender and loving towards my cat pressed against my shoulder, kneading the pillow, mewing in her throat. I hit snooze for an hour because I can't tear myself away from the exquisiteness of it all.

But on the weekends, when I can lay in bed all damn day if I want to, my bed is just not that interesting. My cat is annoying. I can't remember why I love my bed so much. Even though I desperately try to re-create the feeling of exquisiteness, it doesn't come.

It's a metaphor for something.



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