Black Clouds

I don't why, but they're hovering. It's why I haven't written in some days. Last night my sometimes-significant other descended on my house, young niece and brother in tow. I had just woken up from a nap, was making a drink, and was feeling - well, like I had just woken up from a nap. Between him giving a sort of bossy play-by-play while screwing around w/ my broken toilet (fixed today, yay!) and his brother commenting, "It looks different in here than the last time I saw it. Oh, I know, it's clean" to being noisily harangued about every other thing they could think of (just because they could see I was slightly cranky/out of sorts), I have to admit that I was getting even crankier and more out-of-sorts. Finally they left, with me assuring them I would be over soon.

When they left I sat down on the couch with the drink. Then I started to cry. Ok, sob. Soon enough I stopped. Every part of me was in stop action mode. I sat. And I sat and I sat. Maybe for 1/2 an hour. The phone rings. "What's the matter?" " I don't know" "What do you mean you don't know?" "I mean I don't know. I need to take a shower. I'll be there soon."

I did take a shower. I did get there soon. The details of what happened between me getting there and eventually returning home are boring, private, and somewhat irrelevant. Do you ever feel like you're sitting on a dock looking over the ocean of eternity, watching the line of your fishing reel flail out sloppily, rapidly, in mad spirals towards the horizon?