Reality has no mirror
The nights I’ve spent trying to get to sleep, and the mornings I’ve spent trying to wake up, seem to cancel each other out. Only they don’t.
There’s a chunk of memory missing from my brain, somewhere in the middle of the night I went to the fridge and drank almost a litre of milk and then left the fridge door open. But I have an excuse. There was a power failure and so the fridge light was probably off. There was milk spilled in interesting little puddles. It created a sort of abstract impressionist (yes there is such a thing) masterpiece against the dark tiles of the floor.
It could be photographed I thought (and then copied on canvas) but getting up on a chair seemed like a huge chore. Especially after a night of bewildering insomnia, then total annihilation with a supposedly healthy herbal sleeping pill. The body rebels against its own non-conformity.
I still remember how much I hated ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go’ when it dropped, way back when I was a nightmare teen. Now, the morning after this disastrous night, it’s been running around my head like a chicken without a head. Lol.
It’s merely a summary of the situation. It’s not the situation itself. Reality has no mirror.