Hot Mess

The other night I dreamed that my legs turned into wooden goat legs that looked like knotted tree trunks. It was the result of some God-sent plague and others had the problem as well.

I also dreamed that I was walking with a group of people and a couple of playful giraffes came up beside me and licked the back of the bald man's head in front of me.

Great dream memories.

Last night instead of trying to sleep I found contentment in watching two hour-long reenactment documentaries about various wild-west law men. My favorite one was about Bass Reeves who was a black man - a runaway slave - who put 3,000 men in prison and when he went out with a warrant, he never brought the wrong man back. Her became a legend and it was said that starting a gunfight with him was akin to committing suicide.

I got the feeling that the drive in Bass was so strong that he couldn't stop getting the bad guys. Perhaps he felt that if he stopped, his region would fall into disarray without him. Or maybe he really was doing it to feed his family as he claimed he was. I wonder if any part of him did glory in having a reputation as unstoppable and inescapable, a great protector and a just man with a pure heart.

Regardless, his family seemed to suffer since he spent much time "on the road" (not at home) searching for criminals and not much time with them.

Can you imagine marrying someone only to find he chooses to cheat on you by giving time and emotions to his job that belong to you as his wife?

I'm thankful I got to sit around with my dad and watch this, with fair certainty he wouldn't be willingly leaving my family and I for the sake of adventure. He and I experienced adventure and history vicariously through the narratives presented on the programs we watched. It was special time together.

I'm not very talented at rapidly flipping channels. When dad has power over the remote control, that's when the opportunity for quality time begins. If I choose to stay and put up with the shenanigans of channel-flipping, what we land on is usually something I would never personally pick but end up liking and learning from. 

I have a bunch of half-finished art projects on the floor. Can you believe it? I can. I'm super-great at not finishing things. They lose their appeal and they hang out taking up space forever, not changing, not reaching completion. I find it to be frustrating.

Maybe I'll just start something new.

My coworker and I agreed that today we are moth hot messes. Hopefully nobody else realizes. She actually looks really cute. Even if that doesn't count for everything.

But we're cosmetologists, so it kind of does.

Hot mess just means that working extra hours does nothing for one's health. One may cry, have mood swings, lower one's working standards, hide outside, or feel loopy, lose track of time and maybe even start to fall asleep.

Sleep.