Boy, did I hit a wall in Reality last night. Everything was going pretty normal when the evening started: The doggie and I got home around 6pm, and I made a small pot of half-caffeinated coffee. I strung some Christmas lights on my balcony, then sat on the balcony and drank a cup, while looking out at the world and allowing these lights to color my perspective. Then I settled in at the computer with a second cup about 6:45, checked my e-mail and opened a chapter file to do some rewriting.

The next thing I knew, it was 8:30. I came out of a deep sleep totally confused and disoriented. I didn’t know if it was 8:30am or 8:30pm. But it’s dark. Why am I here? What day is it? For a full minute, I didn’t remember sitting down at the computer. I had a bad pain in my neck from sleeping 90 minutes in an office chair. I should try to make it to the bed.

Finally, I recovered my senses and decided to have dinner and watch TV, both activities so proximate to the core of Being as to effectively re-grid the most acute aphasia of spacetime. The only problem: I wanted cereal and toast.

Steven Wright used to say If Reality wants me, it will call back later. Well, last night it called me and got a busy signal.