Another late night for me. I've been up to my elbows in chocolate and caramel tonight. Yes, on Wednesday it all starts again.
As I stood there dipping, my back hurting, shoulder aching and eyes feeling tired, dozens and dozens of written lines ran through my head. Written lines about the facts and follies of life, the silliness of the human condition, the ache of autonomy, all the while my favorite playlist singing my thoughts along their merry (or not-so-merry) way.
Usually, when there is music playing, it requires a force of will for me to resist singing along. Usually. Tonight I am somber. I sang along to some, but mostly I just listened, my interest smearing itself like Elmer's Glue across my thoughts. For most of this night, I couldn't muster the enthusiasm singing requires. I wonder why that is?
My heart goes out to my husband. My mood was darkening just before he went to bed. Digging all the required dipping "equipment" out of our construction-zone basement was a dusty affair that required ridiculous amounts of household cleaners and paper towels. The dust pushed my itchy eye button which creates a domino effect of sneezing followed by a severely short temper. Go ahead. Ask my children. They have a testimony of Mom's finite fuse when her eyes are itching.
Spring is my favorite. Allergies. Between sneezes, itchy eyes and throat, I'm a regular time-bomb.
Which leads to the fact that I'm terribly hungry right now. Actually, that doesn't lead that direction in any way, shape or form. Apparently this post is a conglomerate of my random and semi-dark thoughts. Can you see them in your mind's eye? I can. I imagine my thoughts swirling like clouds that precede a storm, the wind whipping your hair around so it gets stuck in your mouth, sunshine scurrying to a hidden place in anticipation of what's coming, your nose wrinkling at that hint of rain in the air.
But, no. Not this time. You know those summer storms that roll in, dark and ominous... and then, surprisingly, roll back out with only a smattering of fat raindrops? That's more like how this mood of mine feels. It's temporary. It will be gone as soon as I extricate myself from this chair and rest my head on my pillow.
But here I am, writing anyway because I must. My dipping fingers distracted my body-sense and, for the last three hours, I wrote in my mind. I, of course, had brilliant prose and incredible ideas spewing from some previously dry fountain, and I let them run all over the place and didn't write them down... chocolate can be such a hindrance. My fingers itched to type. (and they itched from the chocolate) My flooded mind needed an outlet. I must say, it's a fairly disappointing flow that is being released, but I can't start writing something too brilliant at 1:00am... I have to stop sometime and go to bed. Maybe it was all re-absorbed into the ground so it will grow something better, bigger, prettier, fancier, and generally more wonderful. But, as silly as this is all starting to feel, I feel like singing again and that's sayin' something...