Originally uploaded by annappleaday.
So I peeled myself off the bed last night long enough to make some dinner, stuff it in my mouth, and fall asleep on the sofa in the manner of a caterpillar, swaddled in my fabulous red suede blanket cocoon.
Yesterday's post kind of underscored a major lack of energy on my part and so I was really looking forward to 8 hours of slumber. What I got was significantly less than that, owing to a stellar idea to leave my window ajar, and have to put up with barking dogs, crazy drifters yelling at the moon (and each other), and beeping horns heralding general traffic chaos.
And while all that sounds pretty disruptive, it has nothing on what's about to happen on May 22.
Because on that auspicious day in this already noisy city, Chicago is supposed to 'welcome' about forty billion cicadas from underground and up into the trees where they will sing like banshees, shag like rabbits, and then drop dead and fall back to the ground from whence they came, leaving their husky brown carcasses all over the footpath for me to crunch on, no doubt in open-toed summer shoes. Brilliant.
On 22 May in Chicago, you won't able to leave your MOUTH open, let alone your windows. And so for that, I will gratefully take whatever sleep the universe will afford me, cocooned in my blanket or not, because I get the real feeling that when the cicadas arrive, it really will be a case of "there goes the neighbourhood"!