Don’t we enjoy a storm, especially when it comes knocking at night, the cats get moody and sleepless and they also on your door asking for company, you can’t get back to sleep and the lightening somehow sneaks into your bedroom and lights up everything for a few seconds, then back to darkness, a suffocating darkness, the rumble of thunder is above you and rattles the windows, which reminds you it is about time you cleaned them.
Then wind picks up again as if the thunder passed the ball to its partner in crime, your turn now dude, the wind howls and lashes against the house, it too rattling the dirty windows, and now it is having fun picking up all the odds and ends in the neighbour’s garden, all that junk he was hoarding for no particular reason, but now dancing like skeletons to a deathly beat, the wind passes its action over to the rain that pours heavily, the buckets and empty paint tins are like drums as the rain lashes down making some catatonic rhythm that is better than any of the crap on MTV.
You really need to sleep but the thunder and lightning had teamed up to make your night a nightmare, they have energised you like some old Frankenstein movie and now you are awake listening to the rain drumming away on those paint cans, you can also hear the cats wandering up and down the corridor whining and muttering and generally cursing, maybe they think it is you making all this noise.
Then your body betrays you and tells you that you need to pee, you know that getting out of bed means getting fully awake and the chances of returning to sleep again will be absolutely zero, as you tiptoe out of the bedroom you know you will collide with something to make a racket and you hear the thunder again as if it was laughing at you, you almost trip over a cat too and after turning on the light two furry beasts look at you cross-eyed asking you what the hell is going on, after a brief conversation with the cat were you apologise for all man’s sins and that it was not really your fault you return to bed.
Now here is the dilemma within an hour the alarm will shoot shards of awful noise into the bedroom informing you it is morning already, you have sixty minutes to get some sleep in and all the sheep are on strike because you ate their cousin last night, you brain is now in full flow and the best ideas for a poem arise in that very minute but you can’t write it down, even though you did that last week.
Finally as the storm wanders off to torment someone else you fall asleep glad you can get sixty minutes of sleep, but you was wrong you fell asleep sixty seconds before the alarm, your eyes had not even closed and zipped up when the alarm goes off and the cats start dancing in the hall.
Forgive me readers if my writing is full of errors, I did not get much sleep last night, I might just take a snooze her at my desk… wishful thinking!