Because I am so engrossing and we live in an era that
celebrates the glory of accomplishing absolutely nothing, I’d like to share
with my friends and family a day in my fascinating, engrossing life.
3:00am – I am awakened from a troubled sleep by a circus
troop of raccoons assaulting the family trashcans.
3:13am – Motion sensor light comes on as the raccoons form
“HUMAN” pyramid. That’s right; I said HUMAN. I imagine the raccoon heap now
measures 4’ 11” inches in height and comes up to my chin.
3:20am – I race outside in my fluffy bathrobe with a broom
to confront raccoon troop. Trip over garbage slung thirty feet in all
directions. Realize raccoons have thrown invisibility cloak over themselves.
3:27am – Shake broom at nothing. Watch hair on arms stand
up when the coyotes start howling.
3:28am – Go back to bed. Attempt to sleep.
5:00am – QUIT trying to attempt to sleep.
6:00am – Say a simple prayer of thanks that every man-jack
of us have lived to see another day. (Note: We will be the first to admit that
our family may occasionally merit Biblical destruction.)
6:09am – Check out cable news. Feel vindicated that every
prediction I’ve ever made is coming true. Turn up the volume when it’s reported
that a woman in North Carolina was attacked in her sleep IN HER BED by a
surly—also rabid—raccoon.
6:12am – Shuffle to the bathroom and because I’ve caught my
great grandmother’s arthritis, I daydream about my granddaughters having to push
me to the mailbox in a wheelchair every day. They will chatter happily as they push. Say a prayer of gratitude for such a wonderful granddaughters.
6:31am – Limbs and appendages begin to bend. Postpone
nursing home reservation.
7:27am – Feed good animals (not garbage eating night
marauders) stuff.
9:00am – Go to yoga and during meditation time, when I’m
supposed to be emptying my mind of all stressful thoughts, I try to calculate
the force necessary to kill a raccoon with a rock.
10:07am – Declare yoga a bust. Decide to try combat kick
boxing next time.
Noon – Eat macaroni or rice or beans. I’m not kidding.
12:00pm to When-I-run-out-of-steam-or-the-coyotes-howl: I
scribble and scribble words on virtual paper. Words that no one may ever read,
but I still feel compelled to write, in spite of the fact that it makes me look
like an agoraphobic shut-in.
Bedtime – When the sun sets and the chickens go to sleep,
because I’m saving precious energy and resources for future generations—also I
can work in bed while wearing pajamas. Don’t be jealous.
Tomorrow – Rinse and Repeat
Linda (Night Stalker and Fascinating Person) Zern
