The moment I turned 40, there was this audible click and a whirring noise that faded, at which point my warranty clearly expired and my body’s been trying to kill me ever since.
This internal agenda has been manifested in many and varied ways. Currently, I’m seeing things. Or I think I’m seeing things. Out of the right periphery of my right eye, I keep seeing what I think is dark grey smoke. Such is the convincing image that I actually jumped at one point, wondering if there was a fire on my bureau. There’s no fire. Just me and Cleo hanging out, watching Netflix.
This isn’t the first time my eyeballs trick me, but the only other time it has happened has been in the middle of one of the severest migraines I’ve had. The whole left side of my viewing plane was clouded over in a shimmery oval ring. I called my doctor and was given strict instructions to go straight to his office. I’d not really suffered from migraines in my life, but it seems my brain was gearing up for the aforementioned expiration of warranty. For a couple of years, there were a series of occasional head-explosions, though none of the severity of that infamous sight-confusing instance.
The smoke seems to have been a fluke. It’s possible I just saw a shadow of something move against my wall. Twice. In the exact same pattern and motion. And in the same place.
Whatever the case, I’m guessing I should take a cue and curl up in bed. So, I’m gonna wait until Cleo is done making her night rounds in the yard, calls me to let her in, and we are both ready to call it a day.
Time for beddy bye.
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