I think I may have cursed myself by reading an article yesterday about "
Living With Ayurvedic Cycles," because I am hopelessly drawn to these could-be secrets about our bodies and experiences. I skimmed it quickly on my iPhone (a seemingly inescapable part of our experience nowadays, eh?) and took away only a few nuggets: eat a light breakfast, a big lunch, opt for afternoon naps on your left side, and wake up before the sun rises. It's this last one that I found my mind sort of casually chewing on when I was on the bus coming back from my class last night. Well, thanks a lot Ayurveda, you sly dog, you. The oft-dormant obedient side of my brain popped me wide awake circa 4am - when the sun most certainly remained nestled far from my hemisphere - and never made it back to sleep.
My stubborn wakefulness was furthered by the occasional bangs and thumps coming from upstairs, sounding far beyond the capabilities of a cat (or even three), and what my wired little mind thought could have been a footstep. Honestly, I think it was more boredom than anything, because in order for this phantom burglar scenario to have been plausible, said burglar was apparently taking one step every ten minutes or so and not touching a thing in between, clearly foregoing any lessons in robbery efficiency. Not funny? I've been up since 4am! Give a girl a break!
Anyway, this whole series of events led me to probably a solid hour of laying in bed and contemplating my options to defend Kei and I should our perp come down and face-off with us. I had quickly ruled out the option of waking Kei a la the movies so he could dash upstairs and protect us... I think movies tend to underestimate the grogginess of men upon first waking, so I surmised that the several minutes spent by:
"Kei! I think somebody is upstairs!" - M in frantic whisper.
"Mmmmmmmaaarrrrggggg." (Pause) "Hmm?" - K, not clearly demonstrating whether this was a question or just an extended moan.
"Listen! I think someone is in the apartment!" - M
(Yawn) "Aaaarrrrugh. Mmm." (Pause) "What?" - K
... would have given our foe far too much advantage.
Assembling defense plans is an old habit of mine ever since I was a kid. It's weird, because I basically had an idyllic youth, with 3 exceptions: (1) when I wandered off while on a walk and "someone" decided to teach me a lesson by cupping a hand over my mouth so as to simulate kidnapping and scared the bejesus out of me, (2) when I got lost in the snowblower section of a hardware store, maybe Fleet Farm?, and eventually fell to despair because I was convinced that I would simply never find my mom again, and (3) when I grabbed the wrong man's hand after church - and in that moment when I realized the hand grasping mine was too hairy, meaty, and gold-watch-sporting to be my father, and I was again quickly convinced that I'd been kidnapped, almost like it was an inevitability. I guess the lesson from (1) really hit home. I digress. No seriously, I really did imagine all kinds of defense options in various places in my house. For example, I was pretty sure if attacked in the shower, I could tear off the faucet handle and use it as a bludgeon, thus impressing and surprising my attacker so much that he didn't stand a chance. I hated the idea of being nude through the whole ordeal, but I figured it would only add to my fury and ensure my success. And one of the rungs of my childhood twin bed was a little loose, and I found this comforting, because I figured I had a weapon ready should someone sneak into my room at night. Is this normal behavior? Probably not. Oh well.
Anyway, back to this morning, after the hour of considering options and realizing that I had no good weapon, except possibly my computer - but ruled out that one because, what a waste! - I accepted that I'd have to slither out of bed, stand next to the doorway, and when he came in just launch at him and see how I fare in hand-to-hand combat. Fortunately, it never came down to this. When I finally gave up on everything from my heroic adventure to the possibility of falling back asleep, I got up and found that, indeed, the cats had managed to knock over the canister of cat food and slide it a few feet across the kitchen floor. Thus supplying me with imagination fodder from 4:30am - 5:30am. Appreciated.
Interestingly, when I opened this blog post, I thought, "What am I going to write about? Nothing has happened lately..." and then outpoured this mildly embarrassing essay about my childhood neurosis following me right into my looming thirties. I blame Ayurveda, obviously.
