No time to sleep?
Sometimes we have so much to do that we consider trading food for sleep, or else? Here are two ways how to cope with it.
Summer time is not always easy. Hardest part of it was to walk home through the hot evening air, both hands carrying bags already filled with disappointment. My tired feet still managed to walk upstairs finally, but then I could not sit on a sofa and call it a day — instead, I faced another almost endless to-do list. Food, email, shower? Can’t be left out.
When everything necessary was done, it was late, and soon it was time for the next train for another two-hour ride to the office.
Fresh air?
I learned that getting up early means to find a less crowded train, which also meant that I’d arrive at the office earlier.
So, unfortunately, fresh air is available if we trade it for sleep.
Only?
Yes, you can put your nose out of the open door.
When you’re late, however, you might have to bear with what’s there.
Wet dog scent and yesterday’s T-Shirts mixing with the milk in the coffee into something which makes you try to forget your name.
Dizzy? Just hold tight to the handlebars, whatever it takes.
Work.
Not calling in sick if you aren’t really.
Nobody else is. You’re grown up. It’s just normal. Highly sensitive? I was unaware.
But we can improve things!
I learned to prepare a sandwich for next morning, which I’d eat outside while walking.
Food cannot be cancelled, and while many other things cannot be done at the same time, meals can …
Also, when we’re not hungry, we feel much better when we come home.
Dialogues.
Announcements dissolved into the murmur of a tired crowd,
decorated by rustling of paper bags while scrolling,
mingled with a few phone notification sounds.
Nobody is listening.
Yet, I do …
Notarzteinsatz.
Young lady on her phone:
S-Bahn hatte gestern gerade erst wieder Signalstörung oder irgendso’n K… (redacted).
Emergency medical response.
Young woman on her phone:
Only yesterday, the S-Bahn had another signal problem or some kind of b… (redacted).(Just amazing how DeepL precisely translated that. It’s guessing on its own what to fit in. And yes, before you ask: it’s the only AI usage.)
Another train, in the evening.
Already dark outside.
Breadcrumbs on my bag.
I hear a voice, just opposite to me:
“No time to eat?”
I look up, hardly recognizing him.
He has a stubbly beard. Some foreign accent.
I nod, going on chewing.
I open my bottle of lemonade to take a sip, then I add:
“Trains are a nuisance here.
I’m working one hour away from where I stay.
But today, I’ve been off at six, to … now it’s … ten past nine!
Incredible!
It took me half an hour alone to get away from Hauptbahnhof.
Also, there’s something which always confuses me …”
“Hm. Alone?”
My lips try not to move.
Instead, I try to convince myself to ask:
“And you? Coming home from work?”
But I’m too tired to keep my head up, why bother?
He doesn’t speak that much either.
So I do what I’m still best at, even when tired:
I allow my thoughts to stroll around a bit.
First attempt to eat outside,
refusal of letting it become late again just for food.
A shower? Had one yesterday, so … gonna …
Brain travels on.
I browse through some flowery images of spring time.
Yellow dots on green. A wooden fence.
Rapeseed fields, wiper sound.
Wipers?
Not a train.
Bus.
Or car?
I can’t avoid even noticing a smell.
Petrichor.
It … was raining … wasn’t it?
What was it?
The weather forecast for today?
It didn’t say anything about rain though.
Or did it?
I crumble the empty bag,
try to breathe in to say something,
when I notice a perfume … a flowery one …
may be fabric softener.
And a trace of … cigarette smoke.
There, I become aware where I am.
Someone else is sitting right in front of me now.
Exactly two people, talking to each other.
That man who talked to me must just have left.
That beard … anyway.
It’s too late …
Another evening.
I disappear into the crowd.
The underbridge already gets wet from the rain.
Yellow linden leaves drift away into lines
where the water approaches a gutter,
lit by the few lamp posts.
A poster,
frazzled at the edges,
announces the film I saw the other day.
It was nice.
A pack of cigarettes just below it.
Not nice. Why do people always …
Thunder.
Heavy lightning
makes the street glisten
for a moment
until darkness swallows my feet again.
I approach a row of parking cars, then turn right.
Wind shuffles the tree branches,
then follows my footsteps,
refreshing my senses,
but it’s also ahead of me
as if it knew
where I’d be going.
A yellow lamp post lights my way,
announcing a local beer brand.
My tongue runs dry.
My feet are tired.
I say to myself:
Yolo, let’s have something.
It’s not expensive here.
French fries.
Chicken wings, if they have some.
Running home wet and hungry?
I don’t feel like this today.
Not at all.
The old restaurant is full.
Of course, it is.
Beer garden is closed.
No shield from the rain there.
I walk in, hesitating.
I choose the table at the corner there.
“Hi, may I sit here?”
“Yes, you’re welcome.”
“This is Christopher, and my name is Charly.
Not Charly Brown, of course.” He giggles.
“What’s your name?” — “Daniela.” —
“Ah, Daniela! Beautiful name!”
He takes a sip of his beer, then wipes his lips with the back of his hand.
With thick fingers curled like … which look like those of the man who …
I say to myself:
“No, not that.
It’s unlikely, and you’re safe here.
You chose the place.
They didn’t know you came, did they?
Just don’t tell them where you live.
Just don’t leave your drink unattended.”
I stop, and just read.
Special offer: Goaßn.
Strange word for a beer with coke and schnapps.
I like all of them, but schnapps should be beside beer, not actually in it.
Christopher: “Ah, so you studied physics in Berlin? Awesome.”
Charly: “Sounds craaaazy like Einstein. — I’ve never been good at math.”
Me: “Einstein used to say they might never be able to measure gravitation waves.”
Christopher: “Sounds interesting.
So when I’d drop this beer,
could … could you measure those waves?”
Me: “No, that’s just vibration.
The table will make a sound when you knock on it.
Do you remember elastic and inelastic collision?”
Them, both: “What’s that?” —
I take a sip and lift my fork to explain.
“So when I let drop this piece of French fries into the ketchup, it’s the latter,
but when I play pingpong, that’s the former.”
“Unless, well, unless you play in winter,
or you’ve got ketchup on the pingpong table …”
“I … can understand, possibly.” —
“Okay, so we learned something today.
Me: “And what are you both doing?”
Christopher: “I’m working at the barber shop over there.”
Charly: “I’m a photographer.”
Me: “Hm, what’s your favourite …?”
Christopher: “He’s boring. Photographing sunsets and trees all the time.”
Anyway, he opens his phone wallet, starts scrolling.
“Look! A hare!” — his fingers go on scrolling. I see dirt under some of his fingernails.
“These cats are mine, and this is my son. He’s 17 years old now.”
“Yo are so young, I guess somewhere mid-20.” —
“No, my age already starts with a 3.” —
“Really? You must have good genes, or eat healthy, so these fries are …” —
“An exception, of course. What did you think? An apple a day keeps …”
“Nothing, actually.” He giggles again.
A little later.
Rain has stopped, my beer is empty, so I pay.
“We’re here about every first Wednesday. Remember us, until next time!”
I nod, then I disappear.
No numbers.
No full names. That’s just okay.
My footsteps make a sound on the wet road.
A car slowly drives by, stops to park behind another one.
Lights go out, then on behind the door.
Another door opens, then closes.
I lay down, looking at the stars from my open window.
This is … my place. It’s okay.
Doing nothing feels earned this time.
Knowing I’ll make it.
Doing nothing now.
I think.
Maybe.
I don't know
This kept me on my toes!