today is an Egyptian Day.
according to Nigel Pennick’s research, today (June 22) is a somewhat unlucky day. don’t worry, he lists a good many of them in his book, so it’s not a SPECIAL unlucky day, just a regular one.
but i started off today feeling rather wonky. out of body. swirly. my sister said i needed to go hold a stone, so i climbed the stairs, sat on my bed, and held a large crystal rock i was given. i had visions. and journeys. and hunger pains, so i went down and ate some Cheerios. but i did feel better.
then i went to work. now, this is what Nigel is saying in his book: if you can at all, don’t do that. don’t go to work on an Egyptian Day. or, you know, win the LOTTO the day before so you don’t have to. but i didn’t. win the LOTTO that is, so i DID have to go in to work. and while i was there the computer’s crashed so that customers couldn’t help themselves and had to wait in line for us, and we had to do everything old school style: sans online software. whew. not ideal.
but then, to add more excitement to the picture, i rolled over the top of my friend’s foot with the chair and potentially broke her toe. to this she exclaimed in true French fashion. so i ran to get ice. but of course, there was no quick-break-ice-pack in the medic box, so i had to go up 4 flights. and that doesn’t sound bad, except that the speed of our elevator is sort of like my Grandma when she was leaving church with her walker that she called “Ethel”…slow . but finally i did get to the floor i needed, and still no ice bags. so then i had to crack open ice from the ice trays and fill a baggie (which of course i couldn’t find in the first four drawers).
but finally – friend in ice and computers coming back from hibernation – i saw a cute patron and all seemed like it might right itself. but wait! the day is still not over! the final ‘guest’ of the day runs in to pick up something and gets into a lengthy conversation with a co-worker, while the other workers are breathing like dragons down my neck and security is turning all the lights off. and by now i’ve been twitchy for several hours (feeling the need to shift personalities) and i’m hungry and dreaming of liquid beverages you can’t get in a vending machine.
which i consumed upon coming home.
(after i drove around for 1/2 an hour trying to get a pizza, getting cash, avoiding people going to a baseball game, avoiding the three cop cars hanging around the middle of the street and the two on the corner whose occupants were wrestling a drug addict on the ground spouting blood from his face)
so yeah, next time just stay home.
who invented this so-called “sanity”?
a mythical beast that eludes me.
an overachievement i cannot attain.
a certificate of accomplishment touted by the disillusioned.
what if the real world is
faerie portals at the bases of giant oak trees.
hidden messages in floating clouds.
secret agendas that i can only know when i have
gone the distance and reached the rendezvous site
where a stranger in hoof and fur offers me guidance
a cup of hot coffee.
a turn of my head and a different world is revealed,
hiding until now in the
periphery of my limited sight.
can the sane do that?
can the sane find a ripple in the cosmos
and climb through the hole to
and bring back ideas,
colorful imaginings that will fill
thousands of faerie tale books
and paint themselves into the rooms
sanity is a disappointment. a mirage.
my own twisted mind
is my best heavenly oasis.