Grit in the Gears

I am the grit in the gears, the missing bolt, I am the poker of sticks into spokes. I like to know how things work, but sometimes when I take them apart and rebuild them, I have a few pieces left over. I am a man, so I tend to leave reading the instructions until after it goes wrong. And like all men I have a comprehensive mental map of the world and never need to ask directions. I never get lost, only sometimes I'm late, or end up in the wrong place entirely. It's what we do.

Tuesday, 26 October 2010

24 Hours Later

Well, I'm still here.

I tore my bed-sheet. I was dreaming that the bad guys had wrapped me in canvas, and set fire to the warehouse, and I was struggling to get free before I burned up.
I got free, but the sheet's dead. Got another sheet and went back to sleep in the cave but I had to keep the fire roaring because I could hear the wolves. I sweated and shivered and roasted all night. Slept most of the day.
Didn't go to work, sounds like my boss is coming down with the same symptoms...
I'll be there tomorrow. I think it's over. Might even eat something soon. maybe.

3 comments:

Adullamite26 October 2010 at 15:07
Where are the nurses when you need them!
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soubriquet26 October 2010 at 15:11
Three thousand miles away. She'd have brought me soup, and toast, and tea, and spoken reassuring words as I struggled in my sleep.
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Relax Max28 October 2010 at 13:16
I'm glad you are feeling better now. I'm glad they didn't SEW you in the canvas like professional kidnappers would have done. I'm glad you were nice to the wolves. I'm glad.
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