I’ve crossed that point on the graph where, if one were to plot utilitarianism to parts-caffeinated, the line starts to vibrate and then free-falls into perpendicular. Between the thunderstorm and the baboons I got like two hours sleep last night. Coherency might not be my strong suit today. (although it could probably be argued that it rarely is)
The ferocity of the lightning got the monkeys all riled up and agitated and they made their opposition to the heaven sent luminosity abundantly clear, howling obscenities1 off the higher elevations behind my domicile. Eventually I gave up on the idea of REM sleep and started listening to an audio-book to drown out the cacophony, finally nodding off at about 4am.
[1] I assume they were. I mean it could also have been a lively discussion about troop politics, free will or the Strange death of Europe.
Then while I was shuffling around outside, retrieving my wildlife camera I swallowed a bug.
That is a bit of a misnomer. It’s more like I inhaled a bug. I can feel it crawling around in my alveoli. Well… flailing around in the sticky gumbo, like some world war one trench fighter, slowly succumbing to the undertow of muck that coats the inside of my lung as it death rattles2 on through to the other side.
Its upsetting me. (Die already you damn hexapod)
[2] Hopefully this some sort of psychosomatic thing. And the thing going on in my mind is not the actual thing going on in my trachea.
These are the not the anticipated obstacles I imagined I would have to one day contend with as I (mewlingly) drag my plus sized carcass down into the basement and prop myself up in front of my MacBook (more ‘Weekend at Bernies’ at this point, than actual self-determination).
My camera took 1541 pictures of the night-sky and then rain obscured blur (having been found this morning knocked over and lying in the mud).
Although it managed to capture the perpetrator of the assault before things went vertical.
My progeny and I were having a… scatological discourse about the source of some fresh poo on the path that runs along the side of the house, even going so far as to scrutinize the various pictures of excrement as found in our weighty almanac of Southern African mammals. (again, not something I imagined I would one day be doing)
We’d both ruled against porcupine and had settled on one of the smaller antelopes (Maybe a Klipspringer or a Duiker) due to the evidential diversion from the depicted mean. Yet here we are. I mean this could just be co-incidence, and not the originator of said excreta. Further surveillance may be required. (and perhaps a platform more stable than wedging your camera between two rocks)
My plan for the rest of the day is basic survival; saying no to death from either sleep deprivation or bug-induced (aspiration) pneumonia. Although the latter may take several days to manifest itself. (I’m going to be fun to be around, ha ha)
Wish me luck.
+++
Go Darke 