At night, however, things change. They move a lot more slowly. We have a fish swimming in a little tank in our living room. We've never been formally introduced before, and although I have often noticed its tank, have never taken the interest in checking him or her out more closely. I half expected the poor fish to be a belly up floater because let's face it, in a group home there tends to be a few details that get overlooked. The thing wasn't dead, although it seemed to be in a sort of trance. The tiny blue fish stared blankly out of the tank completely motionless only moving with the gentle up and down bob of the wave. I wondered if fish slept and if this fish had finally had the opportunity to get some peace with all of the hoop hollering drama going on during the day. I suddenly had an evil urge to wake the thing because if I wasn't allowed to sleep, neither should he. Or she. I dropped a few big flakes of fish food into the tank and watched the fish slip out of the coma to nibble on the food. The fish's name is Chow, until I figure out what its real name is.
Almost dozing off. Fighting off sleep where I usually embrace it with arms open as wide as they can possibly go.
