I wrote this post last night but fell asleep before I could post it. It’s probably pretty incoherent but I’m still too foggy to fix it, so here goes.
False alarm on the spring fever thing. It turns out that the manic, restless way I was feeling earlier was just the beginning stages of a bad case of brain fog.
Brain fog (brain dysfunction may be more accurate) is a common occurrence on my Fridays and I can’t figure out why. I don’t eat anything different on Thursdays. I go to bed and get up at the same time. There doesn’t seem to be any reason why my brain is more foggy/dysfunctional on Fridays but it happens too often to be a coincidence. There has to be something different about Fridays.
Fortunately, today it was just the scattered, unfocused, clumsy kind of fog and not the depressing, can’t-do-anything kind and I got so distracted that I didn’t try to drive any of the places I was thinking of going. This was good because driving with fog is probably about the same as driving while drunk or high. “Oh, look. That light we just drove through was red. How pretty!”
The first distraction to deter me from my plan of going out to enjoy spring was the discovery that the windflowers outside the front door are blooming. I had to try out my macro lens filters on them. (The results are above.)
Then I noticed a squirrel in my cart planter out back and I took my Canon PowerShot out on the deck to get a picture of it.
While I was fiddling around with my camera, trying to get the right exposure with a faster shutter speed, I heard a scuffling sound behind me. I turned around and saw a squirrel strolling through my dining room. Shorty had crept into the house while my back was turned! I froze, not wanting to make any sudden moves to alert Baby Dog (who was beside me on the deck) or scare Shorty. He went into the living room, looked at the fireplace and then jumped up on a footstool. Baby’s head shot up at that movement so I jumped in between her and the door so she couldn’t go after Shorty. Unfortunately, that blocked Shorty’s exit, which startled him. He jumped down from the stool and disappeared behind the couch.
I realized there was no way to keep Baby from going after Shorty without scaring him a little more. I grabbed Baby’s collar, drug her through the dining room, down the hall and into my office. I could hear Shorty scuffling around as we walked through the house but when I came back out into the living room, there was no sign of him. Or sound. Where was he? I looked around but couldn’t find him anywhere, which made me very nervous. As much as I like squirrels, I don’t want them popping out of dark corners when I walk by.
I needn’t have worried. Shorty must have run right out the door when I took Baby down the hall. Five minutes after our encounter, he was sitting on the feeder crunching seeds. He was as calm as ever, apparently untroubled by his little adventure in our house.
While I was dealing with all that, the sun went away so I decided to stay in and finish my assignment like I had originally planned. It didn’t go well. I shouldn’t bother trying to do anything with this scattered, unfocused fog impairing my brain.
And I really shouldn’t go to the store with this fog. The store is only a mile away, on minor streets with hardly any traffic, so I made it there no problem. But walking through the store I felt drunk. Or high. Kind of dizzy and tippy, like the floor was tilting and people were getting closer and then farther away. While putting a pizza into my cart, I knocked over a bottle of wine. People stopped to stare as the bottle smashed on the floor, a burgundy puddle spreading toward my feet. It was embarrassing. I wish I could say it was the first time something like this happened on a foggy Friday.