It’s 10:59 p.m. and you’ve had enough of Netflix on a Friday night. You shuffle to the bathroom and brush your teeth. You’re thinking it’s nice that you’ll be in bed before midnight. ‘Time for a little read,’ you say to yourself.
Upstairs, you swallow your glass of water. After that, you feel that little bit of energy that, if not expressed, will keep your legs jumping and send you to tossing when you hit the sack. You see the bag of ornaments that you had collected off the bush at the flats and decide that this is when they need to be tucked away.
The ornaments have been waiting there at the front hall bench for almost a week. You really hope to avoid procrastination and take care of these sorts of matters so as to eliminate a collection of clutter. Immediately you see the loose end of the garland, still smacking of Christmas sparkle as you set yourself to rolling. Feeling a burst of joy and contentment, you roll for miles before you look down to see the cascade of red glitter, like fairy dust, creating a dazzle…everywhere. Your heart drops.
Max comes to see what you are doing……. Yes!
Your first insight is to vacuum through the entire house. You ask yourself, “Is that actually picking up the glitter? It seems I just cleared up that very spot.” Max follows you, curious…it seems a strange thing that all of the lights would be on full throughout the house and you should be vacuuming? He goes to his toy box and dutifully drops ‘Greenie’ in front of you. He smiles. (You are silently knowing that he is carrying fairy dust wherever he chooses to go, but decide to remain calm, wondering “Who was that teacher who loved glitter so much at school?”) You consider the absolute ridiculous nature of the events that are unfolding, tilting your head this way and that, each time, a greater reveal of the sparkling stuff. You notice that the shoulder you had rested all evening, was again, aching.
The lint roller is on sideboard. You grab it and in some sort of ‘light bulb’ moment, start rolling your hardwood, a board at a time. The roll of garland sits, benignly, on the kitchen table. You scowl. If someone could see this. This is the stuff of comedy. But, as is the truth about comedy, you just aren’t feeling ‘it’ at the moment.
The lint roller sheets come to an end and you are almost grateful. As it shrinks in size your knuckles keep on thump thumping with each roll. But ANYTHING, just to capture that flicker that fell between the boards!
You begin wrapping packing tape backwards around an insect spray bottle. No…the truth is, you begin by wrapping the entire length of your mother’s treasured rolling pin. Max continues to sniff you and then affectionately licks your face as the perspiration collects and you pause to remove the first layer of clothing. You wonder what it is that could have possibly brought you to this moment where you are found on hands and knees, rolling the surface of your home. And yes…next, the insect bottle. It just felt too uncomfortable using the baking utensil for such an exercise in futility.
You decide to stop.
You sit yourself down and you write.