Bizarro day
Believe it or not, I really am averse to posting inane details and idle ramblings to my non-blog. But since the past 24 hours have been turned inside-out from my daily routine in all other ways, I figure now’s as good a time as any to set that restriction aside.
It started with this week’s episode of ‘24′, which I finally managed to watch late last night. After an increasingly predictable season, everyone’s role and motivation on the show was flipped upside-down. Hardened characters revealed their inner thoughts, pacifists called for war, and Morris completed a task without a wisecrack.
It was all deeply unnerving, but my discomfort was initially confined to my concept of the show. Now, 14 hours later, I realize the show’s strangeness was most likely the symptom of a much larger problem that would next haunt me in my very sleep.
That is to say, I actually got some sleep. I slept in two glorious four-hour stints, more deeply and refreshingly than I have slept in recent memory. My dreams were rich and clear, and while I don’t know how to interpret “10-10-3-2-1″ commercials coming over my cell phone, the absence of car trouble or flaming birds is disconcerting to say the least.
So, I woke up feeling spry and alive, and not just because of a good night’s rest(s). The tree limb that fell from the sky, bounced off the roof over my room, and crashed into the exterior housing of my window-unit gave me a leap-from-the-bed jolt of adrenaline I wish I could bottle and sell. As the cat and I both clung to the ceiling by our claws, I first pondered the good fortune that the window didn’t shatter under the weight of the branch.
Then something else dawned on me; my air conditioner wasn’t actually running. Its thermostat was set for 76 degrees, and the current temperature indicator showed the room as being at a brisk 57, even after I put on my glasses and read it right-side-up. Keep in mind, it’s the middle of April in Houston… at least, as far as I know.
Rather than stop to parse the dramatic events of the morning, I rebooted a server at the office and crawled back into bed for another bit of sleep. I started to feel like things were getting back to normal when the garbage truck came for its usual round of one-on-one with the dumpster next door and the yard guys came with their standard fleet of jet-powered mowing equipment.
The garbage truck defeated the dumpster, the weedeater faded out, and I snuggled into my dreams again. And then, in clear weather on a cool day, with no provocation whatsoever, the transformer in my back yard exploded, plunging my house into silence and darkness so complete, I could plainly hear the transformer’s lid land in the alley.
“I give up,” I said, as I crawled out of bed. “Relax, cat, it’s just Bizarro Day.”
Fortunately, the shower works without electricity, so I rinsed off and prepared for the day. From there, things seemed to stabilize in the world around me, whether because they actually did, or because my senses were acclimating to their disorientation.
At this point, the electrician at Randall’s standing on one foot at the top of his ladder while groping for his ringing cellphone didn’t even register. The drunken homeless guy waving a beer from his bicycle as he passed me on the left just as I was preparing to make a left turn seemed routine. The horrible coffee I got from the Starbuck’s I don’t normally visit stood to reason, and getting from my house to the highway by untintentionally taking a route comprised only of right turns seemed possible in ways it never had before.
The same enormous silver SUV plastered with dance and soccer stickers passed me five times on the highway without me ever passing it. My iPod was dead after being left on the charger overnight, and my gas tank was full even though I forgot to gas up yesterday. I received an invitation for a morning bike ride two hours after it had been sent, and a cop who had followed me at 80 mph all the way from League City passed me on the shoulder to help a stranded motorist.
These bizarro stories never end plainly. I can only imagine what further upheaval must transpire before the normal order is restored, or what stark examination of myself will be required for me to see the resolution. But now that I understand that a fundamental shift has taken place, I’m sure it won’t be long before I’m forced to resort to time travel, killing my doppelgaenger, or simply learning how to love again in order to get back to life as I know it.
In the meantime, I guess I can only blog about my boring day.