Theater of the absurd

This is why I don't do early mornings. Or, from a different perspective, perhaps this is why I should do early mornings more often.

I've no problem whatsoever with a random discussion or moment. Sometimes they prove to be the most entertaining - or at least, noteworthy - portions of a day. But when my entire consciousness has been composed of such experiences, I have to wonder if the world somehow slipped off-kilter in my sleep.

Nothing particularly bad to note, just strangely different. Conversations that started out with an anecdote or expression that flew at me from some completely unexpected place. The surprising speed with which my car's oil change and inspection were completed this morning, with the shock that I was only able to get through two David Sedaris short stories while I waited. A child acting particularly strangely as I passed on the street. The pure absurdity of ordering a salad and being handed a monster-sized bowl crammed full of ingredients that don't quite seem right when I taste them. Whipped cream bubbling in a manner almost reminiscent of dry ice when I decide to treat myself to a hot chocolate (to counteract the healthiness of the salad, natch). Realizing I'm not quite phrasing things the way I normally would while talking on the phone.

It leaves me wondering if some grand catastrophe is lurking behind a corner, from which I will be able to follow a trail of kooky hints back to the fact that maybe I shouldn't have gotten out of bed this morning. The fact that I've an appointment involving my hair and scissors this evening leaves me particularly unsettled. Will this seemingly innocent trim leave me with a bald head or mohawk?

I'd have to wonder the reaction were I to cancel the appointment on grounds of the day's vibe. Hmm.