To begin, I was in bed with another man. We’d been sleeping. Both of us were in our undershorts and nothing else. We were young and muscular. He was a little bigger than me. I went to get out of bed but he grabbed me and pulled me back. We began wrestling, with him trying to pin me down. I pushed him up and away while saying, “I’m stronger than I look. It’s time you learn that.”
I leaped out of bed and dashed into the dining room. A large square table was full of people already enjoying breakfast and chatting. My wife was seated at one corner so I went there. Something was on the floor. I bent and picked it up: her Fitbit with its silver mesh band. Beside it was something black: the Fitbit charger. I was annoyed to have to be picking up after her. Getting her attention, I said, “Were you doing something?”
“Yes.” She took the two items. “I was charging my Fitbit. I forgot. Thank you.”
Realizing that I was only in my undershorts — blue bikini briefs — I sprinted back to the bedroom to dress. This wasn’t the same room where I’d been sleeping, but the master bedroom, where my baggage and clothing were. Three young men were in there making the bed. The duvet was a deep blue and the bedroom suite was a beautiful dark wood set. China blue carpeting was on the floor.
One young man came to me and said, “We have bad news for you. We’re going to move this furniture out of here. It’s too beautiful to be in here. It needs to be put somewhere where it can be protected.”
I laughed. “It’s fine where it is, it’s safe.”
The man said, “No, it needs to be moved. It’s barely used and it’s going to get damaged.”
I answered, “It’s used more than you think. If you want something to do, there’s a place where you can go.” I leaned down and pointed out a window. “Oh, you can’t see it, but there’s a little amusement park down there. Oh, wait.” I remembered then that it had closed.
My wife came in. I told her that the young men wanted to move the bedroom furniture to protect it. They didn’t think it was being used. “It’s been used at least ten times this year,” I finished.
“Oh, more than that,” my wife answered.
I said, “Do you remember when your mother brought this bright blue duvet? That was so out of character for her. I was just telling these guys about the little amusement park over there but I remembered that it’s closed now.”
She said, “It’s not closed.”
“Yes, it is. Remember, it changed hands.”
“It went to the Fishers but it’s open.”
“It went to them but they closed it.”
She stuck her hand out. “Bet.”
I ignored her hand. We went outside, toward the mail box. Others came up. My wife got into a conversation. While they were talking, I looked down at my left leg and noticed there was a large pale C on my calf. I thought there had been something wrong with it. Bending down, I rubbed it and the C went away. I discovered that it’d just been something traced in dust on my laugh. I chuckled about that, pleased with the discovery.
Sunrise on this Monday lifted the curtain on a foggy November day at 7:18 this morning. Life outside the windows wear a damp, dull sheen.
It’s the twenty-ninth, November’s penultimate day. Forty-three degrees F is the air temperature, but that fog block minimizes the sun’s presence and lends a chilling effect to the skin. Fifty-nine is projected as a high for today but I’m skeptical; sixties were expected yesterday. Though the sun broke through the fog by three, temperatures never went over the mid-fifties in our valley. I suspect more of the same today before sunset at 4:40 PM.
I have “Blue Monday, Blue Day” by Foreigner (1978) feeding the morning mental music stream. My dreams featured blue and that’s shaded over into the thinking operations. But there’s also that Monday/fog combo invoking a mild patina of depression. Hence, “Blue Monday, Blue Day”.
Stay positive (yeah, I know), test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax and booster when you can. Don’t go gently into that night but into the kitchen for a cuppa coffee. Here’s the music. Cheers