Yesterday was a lost day, for several silly reasons. I was the last person to go to sleep, how I hate that, I am never happy being the last one awake as this pushes onto me some great mysterious responsibility, it feels like an abdication of some sort, the last sentry against malign forces, the house left unpatrolled and vulnerable to attack. How terrible it would be to be the last human being left alive, if I were the last human being left alive then each one of my thoughts, my silly and insubstantial and preposterous thoughts, would take on enormous significance as the only human thoughts, I couldn't live up to that, the only reason my thoughts are tolerable at all is because I know there are many, many other people around thinking better thoughts, less ridiculous thoughts, so many in fact, even considering the ridiculous quality of most human thought in general, that my own ridiculous thoughts don't tilt the balance in any meaningful way, being mere drops in an ocean of human thoughts. Anyway I made sure the front and back doors were properly locked, what a silly illusion of safety that is, anyone who's decided to burst in and destroy us is certainly not going to be deterred by these flimsy locks, and then I went upstairs to bed, only to find that our dog Albie was sleeping where I usually sleep, in bed next to my boyfriend, he was laying there unconscious next to my boyfriend who was also unconscious, and it might sound silly but I truly did not have the heart to move Albie onto the floor, something came over me, it was this perfectly serene arrangement, these two sleeping figures, their breathing patterns strangely in tune with one another, to haughtily replace Albie with myself, to consign him to the floor, struck me as the ultimate in hubris, unjust, unconscionable, completely out of the question. So what I did was I folded myself around Albie without waking him, I curled my body around his in a very uncomfortable way, so that while technically my head was on the pillow and my body was on the mattress really it was a silly and ridiculous posture, but one I stayed in as best I could, for reasons already described. I was hanging off the edge and in danger of falling off with a thud at any moment, furthermore within seconds my lower back was in pain and my left arm was going numb, but still I persisted, and that's why it took me hours to fall asleep, and during this period I could only think, and my thoughts turned to my brain as always happens. My brain, I realized, is merely the part of my body that thinks. There are interesting and repellant things going on elsewhere in my body but those organs and systems are for all intents and purposes mute, they have some manner of expression but nothing as sophisticated as the brain, and for this I suppose I should be grateful because I wouldn't really want to know what my adrenal gland has to say, or what rude baffling thoughts my descending colon might come up with. I thought of the bizarre act of sleeping, as I watched the two of them sleep, and what an incredible act of faith it is to fall asleep, what an extraordinary set of assumptions are built into this passive act of losing consciousness on a nightly basis. If people really thought about how vulnerable they make themselves by falling asleep they would certainly only allow themselves to fall asleep within steel containers that lock securely from the inside. Of course the darkness within people is much more frightening than anything from without, so really what escape is there.

I awoke early in the morning and got up, no use trying anymore. I left the room quietly, the both of them still fast asleep, and crept downstairs in the sickening morning light. I didn't make coffee as I usually do because I had every intention of going back to bed, but since I am addicted to the caffeine this means I developed a terrible withdrawal headache, and so later when I did take a nice long nap in the now vacated bed it was a fitful headachy sleep, and this dismal headachy feeling was only worse when I got up. Then later my boyfriend made delicious enchiladas for dinner, and the smell and taste of these delicious enchiladas summoned in my imagination some long-forgotten scenes from my childhood, since my mother often made enchiladas very similar to the ones my boyfriend had made, and these memories placed me in a terrible prison or isolation chamber as all potent memories do, and this haunted feeling, of being here in the present and simultaneously there in the past, made me feel less than real in both. And this is why my day was lost.