PatCH

Sleep-Sneezing

Sometime last night, in the middle of deep, deep sleep, in the middle of a dream or two about nothing I now can recall, sometime between one and six in the morning, I sneezed. Twice. It's a bizarre thing, this sleep-sneezing, and something I'd never before done. The first sneeze woke me up, and I opened my eyes. "What the..." I thought, and before the completed sentence could escape my muddled mind, I sneezed again. "What the hell?" I sat up, as amused as I was confused and staring into the darkness of night.

I thought of this as I left work today, up to the ophthalmologist's to check on my eyes and then to the bar where Michael and I compared notes over drinks. I thought of this as I waited on the train home, walking past the "Zelda Hearts Cookie Monster" graffiti scrawled so neatly and purposefully on the white subway tiles. I thought of it tonight when I got to the apartment and told Greg, and I'm thinking of it now.

This sneezing in the middle of the night, it's not normal, is it?

I hope I'm not getting sick.

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Baker's Dozen, Minus the Dozen

Rushing through a Dunkin' Donuts, somewhere between here and there, a pre-dinner snack to hold off the grumbles, I point to the lone chocolate torus sitting quiet and desolate on the shiny wire tray.

"That one, please."

"It's the last one in the tray; I'll give to you, just to you. On the house."

He flashes a smile and waves his hand, self-assured in his salesmanship and marketing genius, studying silently the reactions of other patrons out of the corner of his eye. He is nothing short of brilliant inspiration, a beacon of leadership in the minds of his underlings. He puts the confection in a box and with a small flourish turns his head to me, ready at the trigger to quickly and efficiently fill the rest of my order. This, he seems to say, is how to run a business.

"And which others?" he asks.

"Which others?" I pause. "Uhm, just the one."

"Just the one?"

"Uhm. Just the one."

He looks puzzled and confused, and reaches out slowly with a tenative grasp, watching in unbelieving slow motion his arm extend. "Oh," he agrees, "just the one." And I, just as confused as to what has happened and twice as unsure for the observers in the store, once my prize is ensconced firmly in my grasp, I turn and head quickly out the door, but not before giving an appreciative smile.

"Thank you," I say. "Thank you very much."

[permalink] ::

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