“To dullards!” I smirk and raise a glass to my reflection from the bedroom mirror bounced into the bathroom mirror reflected back into the bedroom mirror. It reminds me of those perspective drawings from grade school, and as I tip the glass to you and me and me and me, I’m thinking about M.C. Escher’s works, and how they might be roadmaps to Insanity or Truth, and as I finish the glass and pour another, I’m wondering, “Is there a difference?”

Daylight. I constantly add and subtract hours to the digital clock displays around me. I think about who is doing what, and when. I try to slow the constant buzz in my head. I delineate five simultaneous high-speed conversations created by and featuring me and at least eighty-seven Parallel Universe versions of me and I attempt to pick which one is the best Logical or best Illogical path to embrace wholeheartedly. The answer is blurry, at best. Again.

Quick subtraction, and I have how many hours (or minutes, if you really dig anxiety) are left before the alarm goes off again. Each day is one step closer to the finalization of a signed contract. It’s a ticker-tape waiting line until the Last Day of this most recent Hell. I’m excited to find a new way to burn. Another toast to my reflection. Another empty glass.

Relaxation. Two warm lights: a candle, half-spent, and the small lamp on the other side of the bed on its lowest setting.  

Nighttime. There is less light pollution here, and I’m one thousand miles from the last nineteen years of a twenty-mile radius. The Little Dipper reflects over the lake. I’ve never lived next to water, but I always wanted to. I even managed to forget for a few weeks that it was two blocks away. A morning walk and an evening walk to calm the mind. Deep breathing. Lower blood pressure. An hour of peace.

Dreamtime. A final toast, to you and yours, but mostly to me. It’s been a hard road, but not as hard as others. I focus on a soft hum outside the windows after I turn off the TV, blow out the candle, and switch off the lamp. Tomorrow is a new day. Another opportunity we will never have again.