I’m spinning round the room, in awe.

As I left my apartment yesterday for the first time in 3 days (long weekend—Columbus Day), I had the impression a shadow was receding some distance in front of me, always just out of sight, just around the next corner of the dim and dusky stairway. Seemed particularly apt, as I struggled to piece together the shady details of the past 72 hours.

Have you ever completely lost a period of time, aware only that where there should be memory there is utter blackness (or blankness, even), and confident that, try as you might, you will never be able to reclaim any recollection of that particular period's reality? That maybe, just maybe, that blankness actually is the reality for that particular period of time?

But no. I see evidence of the fact that things other than nothing occurred. My apartment bears the marks of movement. There is the suggestion that I was, in fact, there inhabiting the space, moving around it, breathing even. I must have been doing that, right, considering that I am doing so now?

It appears that my lone guest was a Chinese-food delivery man. At least, I hope and pray that he was the sole visitor of my abode, as it appears that I chopped him up and ate him. Well, part of him, anyway. Perhaps I got full? One thing is clear though: I got bored (or tired) before cleaning up the mess entirely. And what a mess it was (is).

So it’s good to be back in the office. Conscious. As unpleasant as it often is to wake up and start a new work week, sometimes the return to routine is, in some way, a welcome thing.

Oh alright, none of the above is true. Well, except for the shadow in the stairwell thing...