Saturday, January 14, 2017

Kitty Litter Karaoke

Topsy-Turvey Blues

Woke myself up
purring last night,
curled up tight 
on the living room couch...

rubbed my nose
on the dining room chair,
licked my fingers
to rubbed over my ears...

gulped down daddy's sandwich
when he left for a beer,
stared with indifference
as he blamed his poor dog :)

poked holes in the arm chair
with my teeth and nails,
then jumped on the counter
to lick dirty dishes...

I'm doing as I please,
with only one complaint,
this evil-smelling cat pan
is two smidgens too small.

Sunday, January 8, 2017

Troubled Dreams and Their Creators

There’s a theme in my subconscious that seems to be my troubled place lately…I lose my car keys.  Seems simple, doesn’t it?  Sadly, in cuckoo land, the mysterious meandering labyrinth that houses my past brain work dispenses bits and pieces of rationality and absurdity into my sleepy time head as if a convoluted snail was on the warpath.  It goes on and on and on, minutes seeming like years, until antagonized beyond despair, I uproot myself out of my satirical journey of misery by waking up.

I’ve been known to add to the dream each time it overtakes me in slumber, but no matter how long I prolong the agony with additional pieces added to the puzzle I still ascend to consciousness analytically disillusioned.  I would like to obliterate this warped dream for eternity…to wipe it off the face of my mind forevermore, but self-analyzing isn’t my forte. I am destined to repeat over and over and over again this insane journey to find my car keys in a story that’s a concoction of mundane and wacky simultaneously.  I need a wee bit more resourcefulness on this one to keep me interested in staying awake in my sleep until I find those dag nab bit #$!&*# freaking car keys.

It’s always night…deep darkness, the blackest of times.  A shadowy feeling of doom wraps its cold arms around me.  What follows, follows in vagueness, as the unhappy dream always evaporates from my awakening the moment I open my eyes, and files itself back into my subconscious in the wrong folder.  Unsolved it is always doomed to repeat some version of itself.

I’m leaving a meeting, a meeting that takes place and ends where no meeting should ever take place or end…that’s the feeling…the meeting has no name, the place has no location…it all just exists because it can.  Anything’s possible in looney tune land.

I can’t open my car door because my keys are not on me.  I panic!  People are ending their talking and beginning to enter their cars to drive off into the distance.  I need to find my keys before that happens, leaving me really no time at all.  If I want a ride I need to ask NOW.  If I accept a ride, how will I ever locate my car again in this landscape of nothingness?

I’m 99.9% sure I can retrace my footsteps and find my keys.  If I don’t find them, I'll be screwed.  So, of course, because I seem to love a bad ending, I chose to look for the non-existing keys and let the crowd disperse without a trace.

It’s the next scene, and I’m on my own.  I’m in a building of no shape.  I climb up a very long, steep ladder and through a hole that is littered with clutter and obstacles across an open space from where the ladder ends.  I have to do this to get to that vague place where I know I was before the meeting ended.  I never, ever find my car keys, no matter how many times I go down that ladder and back up it and pull myself through that open hole defying gravity. 

That’s where the dream becomes tediously monotonous…up the ladder, down the ladder…up the ladder, down the ladder…up the ladder, down the ladder…reminds me of husband looking at the store shelf for that non-existent bottle of barbecue sauce that isn’t there but will be if he looks just one more time :(  HELP!!!

Perhaps, to give up is to admit my mistake in judgement that will affect the quality of my life from that moment forward.  I DON’T KNOW!  I never give up.  I try again…up the ladder, down the ladder…up the ladder, down the ladder…up the ladder, down the ladder with a few extra embellishments thrown in.  OOOOOoooooooooo…I’m so doomed.

Come on!!!  Where’s that Sherlock Holmes when I’m up to my ears in the pickle jar?

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