The light came up in a rush. I woke in the dark, woke late, disoriented, because it could not be both dark and late, but it was. Still I'm looking at the clock, not seeing, or looking at the sky and feeling there is time yet. There is not. The new yellow vacuum swallowed a plush mouse yesterday while I stood by with a hose in each hand (we're still getting to know one another) making decisions for us both. Smoke rose from its yellow nose, and an awful smell, and still my head was going on about time--not enough time for this--while I grieved for what had been a very good new relationship and yanked fur and catnip from the bristles. The new yellow vacuum does not suck the same. I'm trying to pretend it does.
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