It's very, very hot here.
It's so hot now, at 9.50pm, that I daren't look at the thermometer.
I can hear crickets and the whir of the ceiling fan in my bedroom, with the occasional scratching of a dog.
I am lying naked on clean white sheets on my tummy, like a teenager, my laptop in front of me, feet in the air conducting an imaginary tune. It's too hot to do very much of anything although I've considered throwing myself into the pool, which is a nice, cool 72 degrees.
A good part of the last 24 hours were spent in an emergency room. First with Dotsie, my lovely lumpy old fifteen year old dalmatian, whose ear was downsized by a bite from the Frenchie, wherein my kitchen resembled a blood-spattered crime scene. Second with the bad, bad Frenchie who has been itching non-stop for days. We need to get to the bottom of this, goddamn it, I told myself I'd say to the vet. Instead I said, oh, it's awfully kind of you to see us, is there anything we can do?
The point of this is not to illustrate my dogs ailments but merely to show you that I've had very little sleep, if any, and so my perspective has shifted from blissful zen looking at the world as a wonderful place, to a slightly shifty-eyed, somewhat fearful, can't remember one's own name person. It's been such a long time that I even approached melancholy that I'd forgotten how one's shutter speed can slow down like that, how the whole lens gets squeezed and darkens. I had to look at the impossibly fluffy white clouds hanging over the San Gabriels as I drove back from the vet today to remember lightheartedness. It took a phone call from my favorite person this morning, who realized I was miserable, to cheer me, and to remind me that things are connected and those we are fond of care for us in return. There isn't much better in life, though, than waking up shaken, lacking in sleep, being close to loss (this is silly, I know, but the dog is fifteen, and frail and fragile and I had to sign a resuscitation waver that made me cry, at one in the morning, and I cried all the way home, because I just didn't want her to die there in that emergency hospital, with strangers), feeling out of sorts and unloved and alone, than getting a phone call from someone who noticed. Just out of the blue.
I'm not sure what I'm supposed to think or feel or be, ever, really. I just go with trusting, or trying to trust the universe, to lay out the path. And it has. I think I just need to sleep :)