Tick Tock Time's Flying By

Le big sigh.

I am melancholy and dull. My senses feel dulled, nothing feels especially, well especially anything. I have once again reached that aching feeling, where I long to do something spontaneous, something different, and as always I sit here with no ideas springing to mind, no intensely bright light bulbs blinding my brain. I sit here wanting to sleep, wanting to escape the only way I know how, by dreaming, be it day dreaming or sleepy dreaming. However, my day dreams have become non-existant.

I have no drive to do anything in particular, yet I want to do everything. However, when given the chance to do something, I do not wish to participate. What a viscious cycle. How does one ever end it? Is it like a dryer when the towels are warm, inviting, and smelling so fresh, that a buzzer dings. Do you smell fresh, warm, inviting odors and hear a beep in your head? Or is it audible?

Perhaps, I'm listening for the wrong ring. For there have been rings, of the phone that is. And I've ignored them. A friend from an old job, who, I am sure I have deeply offended with my poor correspondence skills. However, isn't that how old friends are? You pick up where you left off, that feeling of apartness never complicating matters? Perhaps friends are the warm towels, ready to comfort you and absorb your large tears while you are down, ready to spread warm shivers through your body when you are already happy, making you appreciate so many things, especially fabric softner. Do friendships have fabric softner? Does something coat our inner selves and make us softer, more friendly to the touch? I do not know.

Right now, all I know is that I wish to be sad and irritated. I want to wallow in this feeling of despair. Yet, I cannot. I think of something my mother said. My dear mother who recently had back surgery- 12 inches of her spine cut open and sealed shut like railroad track, with 37 staples holding her shut. Not to mention the pins and rods holding her spine upright. She is high on pain killers and tells my dad things like, "You need to call the decorator to put the salad on your head," I want fairies on the ceiling," and other entertaining bits.

I helped my mother this weekend and in ways I've done before, two times before to be exact. For this is her third back surgery, and so three times now we've helped put her to bed, I've fed her, helped bathe her, and assisted with any other tasks that arose, but I think the most important task she was concerned about this weekend was making sure my brother tried on some shorts I bought him. And finally, try them on he did and he had to parade into the room to show her. The power of mothers... screw the power of clean, that ain't got nothing on mothers.