Thursday, November 8

Every night I enter my bedroom and lift my chin skyward in ritual. I would love to claim that this is a daily prayer or some part of a centering mantra before sleep. I would probably be less frazzled if this were the case. Instead, it is a ritual of eyeballing and locating the centipede that decides to stroll (no wait, sprint) through our bedroom. It is also a ritual of fight or flight as I reach for the kleenex box and inwardly cringe. Usually I can locate these multi- legged beasts in the southeast corner of the ceiling and on super eventful evenings, I might even catch a centipede closing in on it's prey: a massive spider. To think of mother nature's beautifully crafted food chain taking place above my head while I sleep. It's kinda like camping I guess.



"And on the jukebox is your. . . is your only song and i . . . i'd never remembered the words. Now I've waited too long." -When the Day is Short, Martha Wainwright
Kind of a sad song but it accompanied me perfectly on a chilly, fall morning commute

posted by Jenny Thursday, November 08, 2007

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