Cruel Bio-Rhythm, I Curse You.

4:12 a.m. I would call this unprecedented, but in fact it is not. My adrenal glands have some sort of freakish daily--sometimes hourly--jump start affliction going on, and it's beginning to piss me off. Even my familiars are alarmed. Pissy Boy is perched atop the fridge glaring down at me with that undisguised disdain only true felines can do eloquently, and the dogs are whimpering softly in the corner, knowing in the way they do that it is not yet permissible to tear at the back door histrionically for potty time. It is not, and they must live with that for the time being.

I can account for the bio-rhythmic anomaly, I think. First problem is mortality. All that "shuffle off the mortal coil" Hamlet shit that plagues the addled middle-aged mind. This is nothing new. I've had it for going on 25 years. At 43 years of age, that makes my mid-life crisis chronic. I have had to live with the uncertainty of our heliocentric solar system for some time now, and grow used to the affliction. The second problem, vis-a-vis the whole bio-rhythm thing, is that my life is in flux. Again. Turkey. Ireland. Germany. Back to America. North Carolina. Now...Ohio. And Ohio is by far the most terrifying of my peregrinations. My random destinations. Maybe it's all the vowels contained in this one insidious proper noun. Maybe it's because it seems to be perched precariously close to one of the Great Lakes, which I had previously only known as a trivia question, and anxiety-inducing fifth grade exam question (and one, which I hasten to add, that had been marked incorrectly by the nefarious Ms. Click, the sadistic grade school marm of Beaufort Academy). That they were once glaciers only adds to my anxiety. I also owe my state of uncertainty to the general location of the place, which is near neither mountain nor ocean. Its vast and vapid expanses of "farmland" and the ubiquitous red barns which decorate the landscape all fuel my suspicions.

And then there's the house. The new house. Yes, it's cute. Vintage circa 1890. Possessing character traits that are both charming and spooky, which suits me fine. I have gotten over the radon testing that was insisted on by the housing inspector. But less acceptable is my hyper-sensitive gravity radar that did not detect any forthcoming groundedness in the place. This causes me to suspect that I will fly into random, weightless chaos. So now we have 1) Hamlet shit brought on by mid-life crap, 2) lack of roots brought on by excessive mobility and general roaming, 3) Great Lakes panic, 4) gravitational concerns. I will also add to the list a #5, which may be called the earthly uncertainty principle. Why was I put here? Does this hearken back to the Hamlet crap? It has not yet been revealed to me by way of channeled cosmic energy, evangelical enlightenment, or general telepathy, so I will have to wonder. And wonder I will, as the ancients did, until those venerable lakes freeze over once more.