Jenny wakes around six, flaps her ears whap whap whap and moves about the room, making little whining noises. She wants to eat and go outside but I am determined not to let her out till seven. So I say NO! Go night-night! And she sighs and goes back to curl up on her bed.
Then I lie there, half awake, and the oddest thoughts float through my head. One day it was two words—eleemosynarary and sublunary, o,r more specifically, dull sub lunary lovers. Later, when Jeny had achieved her goal and was outside howling and I was having my coffee, I looked them up. Eleemosynary pertains to charity and sublunary lovers (ordinary, earth-bound folks) is from a famous poem by John Donne.
I am fascinated by the stuff my half-awake mind comes up with, like seaweed, driftwood, and assorted flotsam and jetsam left on the shore of my mind by the unending waves of thought.
