A few weeks ago I convinced my grandmother to buy a little plastic thing of olives from the olive bar at the grocery store. I had two or three when I got home that night, as was my prerogative, and have not touched them since.
Every time I open the fridge, the theme song to Are You Afraid of the Dark starts playing and I reel over having not done anything with so many olives. Mist starts rolling through the kitchen. A child’s handprint appears on the window.
Do olives go bad? Not jarred ones, probably. But these are special olives. Special olives probably dry out. Bare minimum the brine evaporates. And the salt from the evaporated brine is probably harmful when breathed. Local birds probably die due to a respiratory tract infections caused by salt inhalation every year. Stalactites in their lungs. (There was a bird corpse on the sidewalk yesterday.)
Anyway, I bring this up because the Accutane has made me a light sleeper. In my natural state, I am the deepest sleeper. My whole life I’ve slept instantly, continuously, and with no recollection of the night’s events upon waking. For the past few weeks it’s been more touch-and-go. If I roll over at 3 am now, I consciously think, “I am rolling over,” and remember having had the thought in the morning. I sometimes check my phone and then fall back asleep. I also remember my dreams now. Last night, I had a dream that was literally — in its entirety — just a guy making me a big bowl of pasta and using all of my olives in the sauce.
My brain, resting, given the opportunity to do whatever it wants and create whatever sensations it needs to in order to soothe itself and work some shit out, chose to take ten minutes to help me not worry about the perishables in my fridge so much.
I live a tiny, tiny life.
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