Baby Bear

August 6, 2009!


I hardly slept last night. Too much excitement from the circus I suppose (sarcasm...maybe?). Anyway, I wake up after like 2.3 hours of sleep, a legit hot mess, so very out of it. Somehow I make it to the train. Mind you, I have to walk a mile to get there. I keep thinking that this is the longest train ride ever...is this the same train ride?! Is this JUST one day? What day is it?! Sometimes I seriously feel as though someone has drugged me and left my in strange places (aka every day I go to my ridiculous place of employment). Anyhoo, the train stops at Myrtle-Avenue and I get my hustle on, dodging the mother fuckers that simultaneously serve as slugs. In my head I am congratulating myself for being able to function at all. My confidence get the better of me and I am Rocky-style running on a semi-large flight of stairs. Of course I fall UP the stairs. Usually my running up large flights when tired coordination is pretty par, but whatevs, not gonna sweat it. Keep going. I figure that if I keep trucking and don't look behind me it's as if it never happened. Get to work. Sit in a chair, stand up. The chair is wet. What the fuck?! Then I realize that my dress is wet. I am so out of it that I ask my co-worker: "Hey, I'd know it if I peed myself, right?" I mean, I WOULD know and I obviously did NOT pee myself, but then again, what is this??!! And also, how is it that my bag/everything is ALWAYS wet?! Day is typical; semi-boring/semi-terrible. Get home, so excited to have survived. I'm determined to straight chill tonight. I hear this sound coming from my trashcan. Are you kidding?! I have a mouse?! I look at Slash (my cat) and tell him he's fired. Totally unacceptable. I get a random dude off the street to come and take the trash out. I am in no position to do this myself, pretty delirious as is. He kindly obliges, yet there is no mouse in the garbage. The strange sound continues from where the trashcan once was. I am losing it. I ask the gentle soul to please take a look back there and he does. He emerges with something in his hand. I squint, unable to bring myself to fully look head-on. Gleefully, he goes: "It's just a baby bird!" But with his Polish accent I kept thinking he said "baby bear". Thoughts going through my mind: A. Do Polish people refer to mice as baby bears? B. Is there some sort of miniature species of bears that has somehow made it into my home? So, to sum it up, no mice, no bear, live bird, straight chillen out in the corner of my kitchen. Seriously?!