Moody Meow

Liberal, lunatic lassie, with mood swings and foot-in-mouth syndrome

Sometimes I sleep on the couch

Posted on | May 25, 2006 | 2 Comments

Almost every month I have to sleep in the living room at least once. It’s some kind of mental penance and an attempt at keeping my lover out of harm’s way. I admit I can be a bitch about this under normal circumstances, but there’s been a mental release for me. We rode yesterday, walked the beagles and I was physically exhausted. As I lingered on the edge of sleep, David moved. That was all it took for me to understand that I was going to be awake for the rest of the night. So, I grabbed my pillow, made my apologies and closed the door most of the way so the felines could exit and enter as their moods struck them. I then spend the rest of the night cursing the building of Baldwin Park because the cars raced down my street long after 1 in the morning.

So my thoughts wandered all over the place as they do when I can’t sleep. I thought about the points in the ride where I almost pulled over and puked on some stranger’s lawn. Half an apple pop-tart is not good before a steaming, hard ride. I thought about the lingering disconnect between me and the fam, and the isolation I feel. I thought about a move, anywhere and the big blue spot in the corner of the TV that irritates the snot out of David. I thought about the lack of roaches in my house, the first rain that washed my world clean in weeks, about the color of the sky prior to that rain, and the particular shade of orange that dusk gives us. I thought about our plans for the weekend which include a trip to the Bird of Prey center, a ride on West Orange, X-men United, a trip to the headshrinker, dinner with Vanya, doggie parks and lots of good Erica food. I thought about my weight gain and how disheartening it is for me. I thought about how I felt last weekend when I smoked and the phlegm I’m coughing up now (the lingering smoking hangover). I thought about David singing me silly songs to keep my mood up and how he sits on the couch with me when I play Morrowind. I thought about Pip’s dandruff (who knew a dog could have dandruff) and how much I love listening to NPR in the morning. I thought about seeing Vanya driving home while we walked the doggies and how nice it was to have a friend in the neighborhood (that queues a song in my head…but I don’t remember which one)…and then I fell asleep.

My dream involved snow. My parent’s place. Honest happiness and no guarded facades. Papa-san was working on installing a new floor in the kitchen and Mom was painting something. There was snow outside and it was warm inside and I never felt more out-of-home in my life. Not that I wasn’t welcome, but it was not my home. I knew, even in dreaming, that my home included creatures, green and D. I was just visiting. It felt right, that feeling of not being home. I think dreams sometimes make us understand what our waking mind wants to ignore.

When I woke in the morning, I was rushed by beagles (they knew it was breakfast time) and I watched Voodoo run around the house, and a sleepy David came to wake me for my day. I felt at home…

Category: Contemplation, Everyday, Not so sane

Comments

2 Responses to “Sometimes I sleep on the couch”

  1. Tea MAster Cat
    May 25th, 2006 @ 2:17 pm

    I love it when a place finally starts to feel like home…after moving here our apartment felt cold for a while, but now that we have memories created here I know that I am home. I am realizing that home is more a state of mind then a physical location. That never really occurred to me before.

  2. Meow
    May 25th, 2006 @ 2:43 pm

    It really is a state of mind. I always thought it was a cliche, or some trite phrase meant to quell the confict in someone’s mind, but it is quite true. When I lived and traveled with my family, moving overseas and back again, I almost always felt at home because my family moved with me and I knew I could find my Tolkien on the shelf and my sketchbooks on the kitchen counter. I think for the past 12 years I have been looking for home. It’s finally here, it’s just different than the one I left.

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