Yes, I’m still alive! We (the triumvirate Puff owners of this blog) are still alive! We just happen to find our separate selves swimming in a vat of busy-ness.  Abbey’s chillin’ with Big Foot somewhere up North, preparing her kids’ baon, and adjusting to her new job. And probably still finding joy in cleaning her bathroom and running outdoors, most certainly not within the same hour.

Gissy, I imagine, is buried underneath a lot of soil. Or maybe mud. Or maybe rocks. Or maybe magma!  She’s probably the Magnificent Magma Mamah by now, with breathtaking superpowers to boot.  She had a car accident last week and I’m just glad she got out of it unscathed. Other than that, how’s the new house coming along, Magnificent Magma Mamah? Settled in quite nicely, I hope.

As for me, well, I don’t know what to say. School’s finally out. That means back to writing, yes. But don’t worry. I won’t spoil your minute by telling you about my writing woes. I myself have had enough of that. Enough of woes, I mean, not writing. 

I’m still missing Mr. Sandman. Haven’t slept properly for the past few weeks and it’s getting obvious and is now taking its toll, what with the dark circles under my eyes and my now gray-ish (I think) complexion.  The thing is, while I do want to catch those elusive zzzzzs, part of me also doesn’t want to. I don’t know. Like part of me thinks that sleeping is just a waste of time (which is not true, of course. Sleeping is essential to one’s good health, I know), and that by sleeping I’m missing out on something. Funny thing is, it’s not like I’m doing anything significant when I’m not sleeping. It’s not like I’m out saving the world or partying ’til the break of dawn, or writing the next great novel. I’m just there, on my bed, staring at walls. Well, I don’t stare at walls all the time. Just some of the time. Other times I stare at the TV screen (whether on or off). Or stare at nothing in particular. But the staring part is essential. I’ve gotten so used to it I think I’ve become a master of it. Yes. Call me Frankie, the Master of the Art of Staring. 

You see the moment I do try to sleep, it doesn’t come. It’s not like I resist it, no. It’s also not like I force it, not even. It’s just that. . . I just lay there, tossing and turning, trying to wait for that moment when everything would just float away and all that is left is you with your willing soul. But nothing comes. And then I realize it’s 3 am and the pressure to sleep increases a hundredfold. 

Anyway, it’s almost 2 am. Time for me to do my nightly ritual, you know, the ritual of tossing and turning and wishing and hoping that this time, sleep would come effortlessly. 

Wish me luck.