Anxiety

Insomnia struck again last night. I played Tarkov until eleven and finally made my way to bed a half hour later. The rain was coming down heavily, and Missus was snoring so badly that I went to sleep on the couch. I woke a few hours later. The rain had stopped, and I went back upstairs to my bed to find that Younger had stolen my spot. I went to her bed, only to be kept from sleep by birds, the cat — which startled itself by activating one of Younger’s electronic pets — and finally a neighbor’s Trans Am as they left for work at five-thirty.

So I got up.

I did some stretching. My tired old body was still ravaged from the rock gym from Sunday. I made tea, which I hadn’t done in forever, and cleaned up. Two litter boxes that were nasty, I cleaned up the cats’ food and water dishes that we laid out when we went on vacation — back on your diet, cats! — took out the trash and tidied up the dishes. Then I sat and meditated. By the time I was done I was able to lay back down on the couch and passed out immediately. I dreamt vividly.

The place was somewhat familiar, a frat house, or similar party house that I had lived at before. There was a girl there, my type, one I’ve dreamed of before, but not anyone in particular. There was a party, a roaring party of youthful hedonism, the girls started taking their shirts off and dancing to what I suppose could best be called old-school stripper music. It was going well.

Then I realized I had brought my daughters to the house.

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