I am currently in the middle of a book of short stories by Dave Eggers. Last night I started in the middle of a story that was all over the place – wasn’t fun to read.
“I’m not in the mood for you Dave Eggers", I said to myself aloud (which sadly I have been doing a lot lately).
"You’re getting on my nerves.” Out loud, I said this, as I folded over the corner to mark my page.
I placed the book onto the nightstand.
“Except”, I continued, “when you say certain things, and then I think you might be the one for me. Like when you said, ‘why do some of us leave the television on when we are sleeping? Some of us only do it in hotels’.
Later, I dreamt of rubbing diaper cream into my shoulders to take away the itch, leftover from the sun of the southern hemisphere. I ran a thick white layer over my freckled skin.
This morning I lost it when I pulled at the dental floss only to find a 1 cm strip. Useless. I resolved to buy a lot of floss. I won’t be left like that again.