Ho Hum

BLUES IN THE NIGHT

 

Five a.m., time to get up. I shiver, don't want to move yet, but my internal, infernal clock forces me out of bed. What have I got to do so early? Nada. Nada. A slight hum and a little blue light get my attention, call my name. Damn, where are my slippers? Aha! Just where I left them, under my bed except—one is missing. My mind is clear. Definitely I lined those dumpy old slippers next to each other but my toes, chilled on the oak floor, tell me I must sleep walk once in a while. No sense worrying about it.

 

The spare room door is half open, the hum, the blue light, announce my carelessness.  My computer screen glares at me, still has not sent my last email to Chuck. I cuss and swear at AOL, delete all the crapola ads, political messages that have come in while I slept. Under my comfy office chair I find my other slipper.

 

Odd but the computer's 'on' light remains. I click on 'shut down' and everything disappears except the blue glare. Heck, I gently touch the 'on' key again and in a second, the screen lights up. There is a blue swirl, like a dervish dancing wildly on a roof top. The mixture of wildness and quietude befuddle, bewitch me completely as they leave the screen and slide down to the floor. One swirl reminds me of a coral fan, gently swaying in the pale green sea. A sharp shark-like deep blue image frightens me. It twists and turns into a lacy blue fan, one my great grandmother might have carried. There is no depth to these things, whatever they might be. I pull out a roll of Bounty paper towels, touch the fan and find it simple to just wipe it off. Each time a new pattern opens, I stare at it for a moment then swoosh, wipe it away and another appears on the other side of the kitchen floor.

 

My computer has not shut down yet the screen is almost blank. Just a pale blue glow still slinks and slides again. Chuck must have forgotten me. One more try and I give up, make myself a bowl of oatmeal, top it with brown sugar, relax as best I can. The bowl, gets a lick and a promise rinse. Words come unbidden from my mind. 'Open Sesame, my old and faithful computer.'  Solitaire opens at once. Fiddle dee dee, I fool with that too long, get bored and try to get on line again. My eyes pop open, almost explode.

 

Slowly, very slowly the swirls, curlicues,  move as one, wiggle like snakes and stop. I am the only thing that moves as I race to the basement for a scrub bucket, fill it with warm water in the kitchen sink. It seems I have won a battle. The floor is colorless, spotless, shines in the warmth of the high ceiling light. I take another glance at my trusty computer and it has shut down. The hum, the visions are gone.

 

Gone until I wake in the morning. There are dozens of blue circles of assorted sizes on the tile. Some look like balloons, string and all. On my knees I crawl across the floor, wiping away every blue puzzling mark. The floor is again clean. Three days of this and I am ready for a psychiatrist who would either drug me fast or put me in the looney bin.

 

Today is the fourth day since the Blue Incidents started and I have found only two fairly large dots under the kitchen table. They are gone in a wink.

 

As I go upstairs for a nap break, the hum of my puter gets a little louder.