No Rest for the Wicked

It is said that a good story has a beginning, a middle, and an end.

If this is true, then while my day was better than usual, it is not a good story. My day has yet to end, for I cannot seem to get to sleep. This wouldn't be so bad, if I could make productive use of the time. But no matter how awake I feel, I am simply not going to trust myself to do anything properly at 4 in the morning. That way lies madness...

So, I sit listening to the quiet whir of my own mind.

Umbran Maker

I've been tie-dying my own T-shirts since the mid 1980s. It gives me thoroughly unique clothing, and allows me to indulge my penchant for painfully bright and eclectic colors in a socially acceptable way. If you know where to seek materials, it's an inexpensive craft. And since I had not actually got my dyeing groove on for a few years, I had forgotten exactly how much enjoyment I get out of the whole thing.

Yes, it's a bit of a production. It is a multiple day process, and has a risk of becoming extremely messy. There's water and cups and syringes and pipettes and pre-soaks caustic enough to give you mild chemical burns if you aren't careful. Not a nice bit of handwork you can do while watching TV. But for all the hassle, I find it enjoyable.

So, I'm alone in the house, working on the current batch in the kitchen. I'm unwashed - because it's kind of pointless getting cleaned up before putting yourself in immanent risk of getting a lapful of fuchsia. For similar reasons I'm in ratty shorts and t-shirt. There's a five gallon bucket of boiling hot sudsy, soapy water that's turned an odd shade of purple. It's steaming like furiously, and I'm hunkered down over it in the middle of the kitchen, using a broom handle to stir. The stereo's on loud, and Sting's "Soul Cages" comes on, and I'm stirring in synchrony with the beat, and odd shapes are rising from the depths of the water, to be dimly seen through foam and fume before again sinking into the depths...

And I suddenly realize why medicine men and anyone with a cauldron is occasionally deeply moving or scary. Even in these modern days, if I hadn't known what was up and I'd come upon that scene, I'd walk away wondering mightily...