A book was singing. Which book, I didn't know. I got up and stumbled out of bed, waving my hand vaguely at my side table, willing the noise to stop. It didn't.
I glared sternly at the higgledy piggledy pile on the table. Or at least as sternly as I could in my dazed, three-hours-of-sleep-is-just-not-enough state. Still that annoying tune. I opened and closed the books, figuring it was as good a way as any to silence the offending item. To no avail.
Finally I started flinging the books to the ground (something my mother always told me never to do) in an attempt to get the offending tome to shut the fuck up! My sister unclosed one eye and looked at me. She had also been awakened by the racket and hoped I would put a stop to it, whatever it was.
I decided that this was an exercise in futility. The problem was too large for me to handle in the dark. I stumbled over to the switch at the other end of the room and shed some light on the matter. Ah, illumination!
It was not a book singing. It was the phone ringing, singing, jinging...my blasted alarm!
I switched it off, shot my sister a goofy, apologetic grin, gazed at the books on the floor and climbed back into bed.
I could clear up the mess later.
6 comments:
have heard party sounds, mistaken them for people outside my door plotting to flood the room (at university), yanked open the locked door (with the jamb coming off in my hand), encountered the cold white light of a deserted corridor and sheepishly gone back to sleep. had to make do without a jamb for two years.
What seems weird is that when you're stumbling around in that sleep-dazed state, the weirdest things seem to make sense.
Welcome to my blog nevermind...oh, never mind.
It must be a partial dream state, a Dali-esk world where melted clocks make sense. I have experienced this confused, half-world, too. I think it's funny that the books were singing. Break out Jung.
Haha...I know. And it made perfect sense to me at the time. Sort of like the kind of annoyance one could expect from time to time. Theirs books singing. And I couldn't remember how to shut them up.
Jung indeed. Maybe even Freud as I'm sure there is sex or a death wish somewhere in there.
jenn! that was a lovely post. i felt like i was reading the enchanted forest or alice in wonderland or something.
love the way you started it. A book was singing. like it's the most normal thing in the world for a book to sing.
nice way of taking us all into your dream...
Gosh what a nice thing to say. Thanks Pink.
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