How does the old joke go? "Doc, it hurs when I do this." To which the doctor replies "Then don't do that."
I'm entering The Change again. And no, I'm not talking about menopause, either. I'm talking about that strange part of the year when suddenly it's Summer, when school lets out for good and I've no longer got to make sure my daughter is up and getting ready for the bus. No more waiting on the swing for ten or so minutes in the morning, seemingly the only time I can tear the child away from the Idiot Box or her Gameboy or Gamecube and talk. Three months (give or take) of no schoolbus tearing ass Indinapolis 500-style to the driveway, three months of me not watching the little bodies in that bus swing forward from inertia as the driver performs a power-stop just past the driveway. Three months of schools not begging me for money for this and for that and for the other thing.
What a strange time.
Speaking of strange times, I was dreaming with a soundtrack again last night, or more specifically, this morning. I woke up at 4:30 to go right back to sleep, and entered that very visual, very alert sort of dreaming time, where you seem almost to be able to reach out and adjust the dream. I'm told some can, but I could never do it. "Lucid dreaming" I believe is the term for it. For me it's the time when I best remember what went on in the dream after I wake up, and the time when I can best wonder just what exactly it is my brain is trying to do to me. Last night was one of my typical 'retail dreams' wherein I meet or see or interact with people in one of my old job settings. This time, however, there was a very specific soundtrack involved--throughout the entire dream I kept hearing The Beatles singing "When I'm 64." So naturally when I woke up that song was (is) still there, running through my mind like a toddler with no diaper on, evading hands trying to restrain it's crazy naked pell-mell flight.
So now I'm hoping to excise it from my mind by--you got it, playing it. MP3, rescue me!
The rains finally came. Mom Nature seems to have held her water (sorry) for a good month, letting us understand just how bad it could be before letting loose (and still doing so, actually.) It's rained most all weekend, and yesterday, and today it's supposed to continue the same pattern. Very nice, actually, even though my outside time was severely limited, and the grass is growing so fast I can HEAR it, sort of an urgent green sussurus outside, like thousands of tiny Triffids are working their way up to the windows and doors.
I can't believe it's already Tuesday, too. I spent all day yesterday thinking it was Sunday, and when I thought back over the weekend that had already passed it seemed that somehow I had misplaced one of those days, so that the weekend had run Saturday then Monday, and Sunday had somehow fallen into the storm drain, or slipped into the crack in the sidewalk and was no more, nor had not ever been. What a peculiar feeling to have, that you've lost an entire day somewhere. I find myself patting my pockets, trying to find that day that somehow got misplaced, like a pair of 18 hour in length glasses that are just out of sight.