%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |    My random thoughts and reactions to my everyday life. The voices like a forum. |
| PROMPT November 6th You work alone from home, logged on to your work PC. One day you log on, and start your routine. You look at the clock on your desktop and eight hours have passed, but you have no memory of getting any tasks done. Tell us what might have happened to you during those eight hours. Is this an episode from The Twilight Zone, or did little green men whisk me away in broad daylight for some sort of convention of body-snatchers? Did they need a 'fresh' victim sample to parade around? Were they hoping to impress their colleagues? I'm no prize to hold up for scrutiny. "With this exhibit we present to you a semi-recluse often alone with her own company for days at a time. Notice the paler than pale complexion, the blood-shot eyes, and the dark under eye circles. We believe she sustains herself on a steady diet of cookies and copious cups of tea. We discovered her dwelling amongst the largest, fuzziest dust bunnies we have ever laid eyes on. It's as if she ignored their existence. To our disappointment she failed to struggle. Is she that desperate for a close encounter? All we could understand from her mumbling is that she just wants to get out of the house." Naw, this is not a likely scenario at all. Come on, it's too far fetched. It's much more of a possibility that I blacked out from a binge of some kind. Cookies have never affected me in such a drastic manner before though and my tea is only spiked with a dribble of milk. I've heard of sugar spikes , but not sugar amnesia. Okay, that's another theory put to bed. That's it. Perhaps I wandered off to bed and enjoyed a good, long, extended daytime nap. I have no recollection of doing this, but the completely-relax-and-forget-everything-naps are without a doubt the most restorative, or so I've been told. I've never experienced such a rest break, but a girl can dream, right? Just to test this I checked my bed and alas it does not bear so much as a wrinkle. Nothing happened in, or on it. No muss, or fuss occurred. I do admit to indulging in a spot of daydreaming now and again. You know how it is, one random thought floats into another and then meanders into a second one which bounces off a third and so on. The entire chain reaction process effortlessly chews up time. But for a continuous eight hours? Within that time frame I'm certain I'd assuage a craving ,or two for some sort of sustenance. All that rambling burns calories. I'm also certain at least one of the extended family would've contacted me with a request, a fresh pic ,a frantic medical consult, an amusing meme, a burning question re their childhood, a memory confirmation, or an invigorating natter. No mother on earth has ever managed such a ginormous block of uninterrupted time to herself. If by some miracle, or mystical realigning of the stars this had ever materialized, the rare event would've been met with outright skepticism. It boggles the mind. This is the stuff of wishful thinking, fantasy. Did I trip and tumble down a deep dark hole like Alice? Again, I fail to see this. Oh, I have tripped and stumbled. I misstep and stagger on a regular basis. Despite residing in this same home for years I continue to injure myself upon / against the unchanged furniture, the walls, the doors and the sneaky nooks and crannies. Familiarity breeds accidents. Not that I've consciously made it my mission to discover and experience every conceivable means to fracturing toes, but I've tumbled upon a surprising variety of ways to do so. Also I have yet to find an actual hole in my abode. Could I have fallen and struck my head rendering me unconscious for eight whole hours? Did I slide unbidden into an abyss of darkness? While unawares did I fail to record anything in my environment? I poked and prodded my skull. No new lumps, lacerations, or bruises are apparent. My ears are not ringing nor is my head pounding. None of the furniture is freshly marred, or dented. The dust bunnies have not scattered. I should think a great jarring thud would disturb them. I am stumped. The only activity that causes me to lose blocks of time is reading. I've always been grateful that breathing is a reflex. While immersed in a book everything else falls away. The story becomes my focus. Usually, I finish a novel in two hours. But being so absorbed, so lost in a book for eight straight hours? Without my undivided attention for that exorbitant amount of time the earth would spin off its axis. Has anyone witnessed what three unsupervised, exuberant children can unleash in eight minutes let alone eight hours? |
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