Living In A Cloud

Or rather, "clouds." It's a Seattle fall/winter day where there isn't really any rain or fog, we're really sitting in a cloud-bank that has descended all the way to the ground. Driving through this stuff requires variable-setting, intermittent wipers. I was very excited to buy my first car in the era when this became a standard feature, more so even than A/C.

It's been raining, drizzling, showering, pouring, misting for more than a week. Wind and rain pounding their way through the mountains at night has kept everyone awake through most of this time. Our urchin keeps waking up screaming, the noise outside being mistaken for Monsters, cougars and bears in particular Under The Bed. Mom says "But Honey, you have a trundle bed, the space under your bed is full. What kind of Monster do you think could possibly fit under there?" The Answer: "A Flat Monster." Duh. The conversation degenerated into talking about, "Pancake Bears" or monsters that are flat until they're let out from Under The Bed and then they fill up like balloons. I apparently lack imagination at this stage of my life. Stephen King just *had* to have spent time with kids.

I'm completely disassociated from reality today, not having slept enough last night due to several rounds of screaming night-terrors. Yeti was restless and seemed worried about something. He's been lurking close to me, guarding and/or wanting lots of attention. He's an old man now, I worry about him. His ears and nose were too warm last night.

I've finished what I need to for work today and I'm waiting for my carpool. I want to go home and try to rest. Yesterday, I felt normal after a weekend of sickening antibiotics. Today, I feel like someone's standing on my chest again and my head is as cloudy as the scene outside my office window. Leaning on the window sill, I can look into the non-winter-dead plantings so carefully maintained by the facilities folks. I wish my yard looked as inviting. I can see only 3 buildings again through the mist. Watching the traffic and people walk by the new tower I work from my quiet office leaves me feeling like I'm the same age as our child, trying on Mom or Dad's shoes. It feels over-sized and adult. When was it that I stopped asking Santa for castles for Christmas and started sitting in meetings trying to save a corporate universe, feeling as though I'm pretending to be an adult and know what I'm doing even though I know that's not true.

We'll go home and light a fire and Yeti will come in wet and needing a bath, wanting his human to pet him and telling my by giving my arm a giant, slobbery nose shovel. And, hopefully, I'll sleep.