The reality of the surreal

Sometimes the surreality of reality is mind boggling.  This morning I stumbled out of bed at 4:30 a.m. to appease the whiny dog.  She followed me into the bathroom where I watched her do battle with an epic cockroach.  Rather than bothering to squish it or wash it down the drain, I just took pictures. 

My money's on the dog.

I shooed the dog outside into the predawn light and settled myself on the couch to try to get a little more sleep.  Fifteen minutes later, I heard Christmas carols in my dreams.  I shook myself awake to peek out the door at the garbage truck going by piping "Santa Clause is Coming to Town" from its speakers.  Garbage collection day is always entertaining, but my sleep-deprived brain could not help but marvel at the fact that I am half way around the world in a country that (mostly) does not celebrate Christmas, and there is a garbage truck playing Christmas carols at 5 a.m. in the rice paddy (and Black Friday hasn't even hit yet).

I try to fall back asleep on the couch, but by 6 a.m. the kids next door have snuck inside and are staring at me on the couch.  So begins the dog/kid shuffle.  I usher the kids out and lock the door.  Coconut cries to come in.  I crack open the door to let Coconut in, and Titsie (her mammary mutt playmate) sneaks in too.  Now there's a dog-wrestling match going on in the living room.  It takes a broom to get Titsie to leave.  I settle back on the couch.  Coconut starts whining to go out.  I open the door to let her out, and the kids sneak back in - squealing and laughing with glee at the game they have created.  I momentarily forget who I am ushering out of the house this time and pick up the broom.    I eventually sweep everyone out of the house (kids and dogs).  When Coconut starts whimpering to come in two minutes later, I let her cry.  I had originally been concerned that she would wake up the neighbors.  Now I am hopeful that she will wake them up and perhaps they might come get their kids out of my house. Surreality rules.

Eventually I notice that the sun is shining.  I really must be dreaming.  I haven't seen the sun in weeks.  To celebrate I pull out my navy blue dress (I have been wearing the same unwashed pair of jeans for two weeks - for fear that if I wash them they will never dry).  The dress looks a little odd.  I realize it's covered in green and white mold. I wish this were a dream.  With a fresh, sunny perspective, I realize I need to get a grip and make my own reality before this surreal world takes over.  I stuff the dress back in the closet to continue its fuzzy decline, and I throw my jeans in the wash - determined to take advantage of the reality of a sunbeam while it lasts.

Sunshine on my blue jeans makes me happy...