I just slept in a bed for the first time in about a month. Arlie is out of town and my dad was cool to be by hisself overnight and I just wanted to not wake up with the first bell of Glendale high school ringing. They say the pledge at 9:05 and even though we are 2 blocks away, shit is loud and truly makes me hate America. All the fright of school morning topped by my adult resentment enforced patriotism in one killer combo.
But here, in the mostly empty treehouse, sleeping in Arlie's room that smells like a man's room (not a guy's room--A guy's room smells like cold cuts.) with baby skunks going scritch scritch scratch on the dark hill in the night and birds chitty with the dawn. I woke up several times with no fucking clue where I was. I woke up because I would realize I was in a bed (and not on a couch or floor or air mattress) and this bed feels like mine, but the sound outside was of a polyphony of cheeping and not Pitbull's "Anthem" vibrating the trunk hood of a slow rolling Caprice, so I knew I wasn't back in Chicago. I somabulated in the dark until I got down the hall to the living room, where the barely morning was coming in the treehouse, glowing up the filthy white carpet and I realized I was home.Posted by Jessica at June 10, 2008 11:55 AM | TrackBack