At 5:20pm today, I stopped reading my own blog, and put LapTop in sleep mode. I stood up quite gradually, so as not to disturb Lumas, who, as you know, insists on being the first down the stairs if I opt to descend them. And if he thinks there is a w-a-l-k in his immediate future, he will launch himself down them with furry abandon, and this would ruin the element of surprise that I knew we'd need. So I sort of meandered towards my doorway, and when it was clear that he was either dead or lost in one of his complex trigonometry equations, I put my slippers on and went downstairs. It was now 5:28. The window at the base of the stairs was Beetlemania. The kitchen walls and ceiling had the beatlemeasles. The bathroom was like that scene in the Matrix (part 3?) where everyone's in that rave cave dancing and celebrating humanity, except they were ladybugs (none of which were wearing Ray-Bans) and they were celebrating the fact that I couldn't use my toilet.
We stood quietly in the center of the room and waited. When the clock read 6 and they were showing no signs of packing it in, we returned to the less-pulsating upstairs. I was disappointed to say the least. I tried to work out some harmonies on track 8 of my new record but my short-term memory was shot - I couldn't remember a word five seconds after I read it. I was consumed with resentment toward these little housemates for throwing off the pattern (and making my blog, the one about how they're so punctual, look stupid).
I wonder if I am using the whole ladybug thing to procrastinate and distract myself from the daunting task of writing the last song for this album? The sensitive new age guy in me is convinced that they are an integral part of the process of this album, I just can't figure out what part that is... And just as I began to consider exactly how much more of my time could be afforded to this mystery, mom called to remind me to set the clocks back.
We ran downstairs at 6:38, now 5:38pm (!), and they were gone.