days like this.

Last night, somewhere close to midnight, I woke to a sound that was reminiscent of a small plunger.

"NO." I commanded, kicking Olive off the bed about 0.6 seconds before she started vomiting. She does this maybe once a year... certainly not enough to make me angry. And at least, if it's on the floor-- well, the floor is my preference to the bed. I drifted back to sleep. I have the watch, and sleep is a precious thing. You never know when you won't get any.

0348, Super Mario Bros. jangles next to my head, the phone vibrating on top of a stack of books: leadership principles by a female Marine Captain, a collegiate tome on feminist theology, capped off with a jewelcase of Sim City 3000. I can't get it to run properly on my laptop. I just want to put down some orderly streets.

Hello.

It's my boss while I'm on watch, and we've had an incident. "My God," the words tumble out of my mouth, lack of mental clarity leading directly to lack of filter.
"Yeah."

He decides I should only come in a half an hour early, 0530 instead of 0600, and after I hang up I just lay there in the dark. I could probably get another 45 minutes of sleep, but there's something about hearing the dark twist of a person's loneliness that keeps me awake. This is a very different thing than regurgitated cat food. I can see the sky out my window, and it's a dense charcoal. Enough to smother a body, given the chance.

On the way to work, I'm autistic and just listen to the same song over and over. Deception Pass is indefinite, the choking fog obscuring the road ahead, the dropoff over the sides into the churning slate tide below. I'm driving into nothingness. More than fear, I feel liberation.

The next four and a half hours are a steady, brisk pace of tracking down information, talking to the right people, talking to the wrong people, dead-ending, re-formatting, and digging up direction that really could be read any number of ways. I get Jen to cover for me while I go to the doctor, and find out nothing I didn't already know. I'm scheduled for an ultrasound on Friday, so we'll see how that goes. I do pretty well in the car, really only teetering on the edge of losing it when I get a text from Tracey: "I always have time for you."


Days like this, you look up at the sky above you.
Days like this, you think about the ones that love you.
And all I wanna do is live my life honestly.
I just wanna wake up and see your face next to me.
Every regret I have will go set it free.
It will be good for me.


I go in and tell almost nobody. This is my news right now, and that's it (so y'all keep your mouths shut, too). Think of me with kindness, if you think of me. The next week is probably going to be a little bumpy.
The boss offers to give me the rest of the day off, and I decline. I have a job to do, don't I?

We get the damned report off, finally, and I relax for a minute as the day, the lack of sleep, the lethargy catches up to me and bears down on my shoulders. Up ahead of me, through the half-door, I get beckoned. Seems I didn't read the right mind at the right time, and something that should be great isn't so great and I'm standing tall, defending something I'm proud of. I can't even muster enough energy to put a little passion in my voice. I say what needs to be said, and all that echoes in my mind is a single word: bullshit.

Days like this.
Yeah you think about the ones that went before you.
Days like this.

I lean on the open window, ignore the turning engines and whine of the APU and let the breeze blow in.

And all I wanna do is live my life honestly.
I just wanna wake up and see your face next to me.
Every regret I have will go set it free.
It will be good for me.
It will be good for me.

The last plane takes off around 1930. The clouds are grey, but they can't hide the cornflower above them.

Days like this.
That you think about the ones that love you.
Days like this.
Have you ever seen the sky such a clear blue.

(soundtrack for this post courtesy of Over The Rhine.)