I'm sitting in the airport waiting for a plane to show up and take me home. It's the end of the day and officially dear-god-I-want-a-cup-of-tea o'clock.
Still, it's chill enough. Terminal's not crowded. My day went quick. Lots of meetings. Traffic wasn't too bad.
At some point in early June, I suddenly knew what I had to be for Halloween this year and I was bouncing with excitement to get going. This is early for me. Perhaps not in the scheming and initial design sense, but certainly for the execution phase. When that little serendipitous inspiration struck me, I was entrenched in sewing ballet costumes for a performance under the direction of another, and while the costume director was doing a great job, the perverse part of me was bristling to color outside the lines.
I was up for more than two hours this morning before I actually looked at myself in the mirror. Nice rings under those eyes today. Lovely.
Welcome to Zombieland.
My kid doesn’t sleep. He’s a brilliant, beautiful, sweet little boy. He’ll eat anything you put on a plate in front of him. He’s adventurous, generally polite. But he doesn’t sleep. We’ll go through a good chunk every now and again where he’s actually sleeping through the night or close to it.
Now is not one of those times.
I had been planning on going as a witch for Halloween this year, but with the amount of sleep I've been getting, I think a zombie would be more appropriate. It would certainly be easier. I'd need no makeup and very little acting. It'd be a great disguise right up until my cousin, convinced the end had finally come, shot me, with a tear glistening in the corner of his eye.
Hmm.... Maybe not such a great costume.
