myriad of secret thoughts

Last night I, yet again, fell asleep at 8pm, and would have done the (rare act of) waking up at 8am the next morning (because it’s Saturday), if it weren’t for the fact that it’s fasting month, and we must have breakfast at 4am.

So wake up I did at 4am, grudgingly, and reached out to turn my bedside lamp on. It didn’t. I ignored it, commenced on doing the very difficult procedure of swinging my legs on to the floor and sitting up without experiencing a sudden and very uncomfortable blood-rush to the head, failed, waited for said blood-rush to fade, and finally stood up to turn on my bedroom light. It didn’t. Drowsily I went out and peered into the kitchen, and there were my parents, eating by candlelight. It would have been a romantic scene if it weren’t for the fact that a) it was 4-fucking-a.m. and b) the electricity had blacked out.

The phone rang. I picked it up, and it was my brother on the other line reporting that he was having tuna sandwich for breakfast except that he couldn’t find the friggin' tuna coz it was so friggin' dark and he didn’t know where he kept the torch.

I think in the end he managed, as did we, and the taste of our food was apparently not affected by the lack of its visibility. After “breakfast” I snuggled back in bed to retrieve my disturbed sleep, and this time the darkness was comforting and most welcome.

As soon as I closed my eyes, the lights went back on.