My Bedtime Was 15 Minutes Ago

These are the words I have to type before I can slouch upstairs (2 flights) and crawl into my cold bed and shiver until I’m warmed up and then hold “High Fidelity” in front of my face while I doze for 10 minutes and then wake suddenly and sigh because I haven’t even turned the page and then put the book down, turn out the light and turn over onto one of my sides, I guess the one that doesn’t hurt and finally finally go to sleep for 8.5 hours until the “maMA!” wakes me and I ignore it and try to breathe through my congested nose but cannot so give up and get up and drink tea which is not like coffee, not like coffee at all, but better than nothing and at least hot, and then I can ignore no longer so I’ll go upstairs (1 flight) to greet the 16 month old of my dreams who toasts me with his water cup when I enter the room and flood it with light from the hall: “Wa-ter!” and when I agree, he points at the dog in his crib: “Wa-wa!” and I agree and he stands up and says, “Mama!” with his arms outstretched and with a tone of such fondness and excitement that instantly he is forgiven in advance for the whole day, for all his future annoyances and I sort of wish I could close the door behind me and just hang out in his crib all day, pointing at things and drinking water and feeling his face buried in my shoulder while he murmurs “Mama, mama,” like a lover, like a drunk stranger, like an old friend.