Maitri Libellule


I don't know what happens to Mondays...
They're slippery and they can get away
from one before they know it, sneaking
from Sunday to Tuesday in the blink of
an eye...

I began to write this last night almost on Monday, sigh, it's was actually about 12:30 a.m. I thought maybe I could sneak it in and pretend like I wrote it on Monday. (Oh NO you did NOT say that Maitri. You're a minister for goshsakes....) Well the thing is, I was in my big comfy chair, pug snuggled into me, laptop wide open on an enormous pillow on my lap (my comfy chair desk) and I was JUST going to rest my eyes for a minute, and the next thing I knew it was TUESDAY.

Now that's mysterious...

And just after I updated my Maitri's Heart blog on Sunday about having been in a fugue state for a few weeks and now things were much better and normalizing, darned if my Circadian rhythms didn't go all wonkified again and have me up half the night (I think that's curious if not mysterious...) and so tired I'm not even human the next day. I get up and down and up and down getting dogs out and in and in and out and out and in from 6:15 on (When you've gone to sleep at 4:30 you are sleep-walking at 6:15...) and they get treats the second time and breakfast between 8:30 and 9.

The six parrots need fresh food and water, and still kind of sleepwalking I get that. I go back to sleep. Finally about 10 the animals have had enough. I kind of open one eye and see Moe's big black nose in my lap (He's the only dog in the house with a real nose, the rest are pugs.) and he stares at me making me feel all guiltified (I know it's not a real word but I'm using it anyway. I make up words...) and so I get up, kind of off-kilter and staggering about, the dogs start jumping about all happy and excited, "MOMMY'S UP!!!) AND Petey, (Hahn's macaw) and Solomon (Blue Crown Conure) start hollering at the top of their little voices, "Good morning, good morning, good morning!" I moan and mutter and stand there for a moment, stupified, wondering where I am, and then lean against the kitchen counter staring at the espresso machine for awhile. It looks back at me. I think it laughs like Vincent Price.

I'm pretty sure that's mysterious. Espresso machines are not supposed to stare back at you and make you feel guilty because you're late. Geez, I think Moe was talking to him. (The espresso machine. His name is Othello. I name everything, and no, if that's some horrible Shakespearean name so be it. I'm so old I forget most of Shakespeare except for Romeo and Juliet, and A Midsummer Night's Dream just left me baffled. My brain is so jumbled up and cluttered these days I'm lucky to put my shoes on the right feet. I've been a published writer for 30 years but I have trouble with Shakespeare's English, and you can just forget Chaucer. Poo. Might as well be trying to read Chinese -- nothing against the Chinese which I'm sure is a beautiful language but I stand on my head trying to read those columns of little pictures and it just leaves me mystified and makes my head hurt.). (I also write more and longer asides than anyone in the history of the universe ever has, but that's kind of the way I think and talk, and talking in a circular pattern might be due to my bi-polar disorder, but I can't really tell because now that I'm medicated and so much better I can't be sure.)

I think that's mysterious. When you're bi-polar everything is pretty much mysterious. I wonder if all bi-polar people lose Mondays?

Well, gosh darn it, It's 7:15 p.m. on Tuesday night. I am embarrassed and I haven't even had my morning latte. I'm going to make it now. I'm going to pay for that later. You see I was being picked up by a realtor at 10:30 a.m. and I did well to take care of the animals and get a shower and dressed in time, and I rode glassy-eyed down the streets grateful that she was driving. With no coffee and very little sleep, you don't want me to me behind the wheel of a car. That's not mysterious, it's just kind of pitiful, or sad, or scary, or all of the above.

Well, tomorrow is Wisdom Wednesday, and I think I'll manage that just fine, not being a Monday, that's if, having had a latte at nearly 8 p.m. I sleep at all.

Pray for me will you? Wish me luck. I'm just hoping I don't wake up tomorrow and think it's Monday. I'm beginning to think all of my days of the week got put in a huge container, shuffled around, and I pick one out each day not having the least idea whether it's really that day or not.

Now I think that's at least a little bit mysterious? Isn't it? If it isn't don't tell me. Be gentle. I'm confused enough as it is, and you'll just confuse me more...

Almost, hopefully, just a little bit...



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1 Response
  1. Tanya Keenan Says:

    Ahhh, Maitri. I lose Mondays too, and I'm not bipolar, just ADD. I think you were right when you said they were slippery. Even though I signed up to do Mysterious Mondays, I keep missing them too.

    Be well Maitri.


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