Saturday, July 25, 2009

My Wits Vs. The Hiatus

I've always wondered how the owners of a Bed & Breakfast can stand to be around other people that much, especially with them staying with you.

Up and down the hall you can hear snoring, bathroom noises, bed springs creaking. Maybe the couple is arguing, and the man or the woman has rage issues, like me, and they can barely contain their anger over something that did or did not happen that day. Or they're in a big stew about what they're going to do tomorrow. Then the Bed & Breakfast owners are there at the table the next morning, hoping these people get out of their place so they can get some rest. Over time they hone their wits, keeping computer profiles of all the signs and personality types, so they'll have a better idea which ones need a tranquilizer dropped in their water at dinner.

I definitely prefer having the house to myself. I prefer not having [an unnamed party] as a house guest. Before all this came to a head [it] was growing and taking over by leaps and bounds. Surrounding and encroaching on my bed, I could hear such loud breathing, the sucking in of air and the hiss of breathing it out, that I could barely sleep. And if this became quieter, apparently with the different phases of the sleep cycle of the typical [species of creature], there were plenty of other noises from around the house: digestive noises, the refrigerator opening and closing, lamps being tipped over, etc. You'd have to be dead or nearly dead to sleep through that, which, thankfully Grandma has been able to do.

But then my wits kicked in. Making me very proud to be a part of the human race. We humans have it going on, for sure. We're always at least five moves ahead of the smartest members of any other species. A monkey will be rattling its cage in the zoo, having some kind of hormonal issue. But somewhere in the laboratory a scientist will be watching it on closed circuit TV, having anticipated this trouble by consulting books on the sex lives of monkeys. They already have another monkey, a female, on loan from a neighboring zoo, who will be let down by a helicopter, then picked up after they've had their thing. If we flipped the scene and it was one of us in the cage, with a hormonal issue, and the monkeys were in charge, they'd be sitting at their desk eating a banana and never notice us.

So it's good to have my human wits, which I've been using to my advantage. The increase of space in the house has proceeded, and you know why that is. It's the opposite of what's happening to the principal in this particular drama. I've been up, ignoring anything that may or may not be in my path, getting my breakfast. As I've walked through the rooms, I've been glancing here and there, into corners, under things, looking for the weapons. How could [an unnamed party] hide that many sacred swords? Unless they're still underneath, or somewhere in the room, some part of the room that is not yet widened or exposed.

I would love to be on the offensive, brandishing a sword right about now, to be able to hack and hew, offering up a full head of steam for my spirit of vengeance. But I'm like a respectful monk as of this moment, letting the room widen with a peace and apparent patience. I might be able after all this to write a self-help book on managing your surroundings by the power of patience, and, of course, your wits.

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