Dive, PB, Dive!

Madame Viperfish

Funny—I looked in the mirror and there she was—deep-sea darling—my mind instantly obsessing on the Mariana Trench and how even though it’s the deepest spot on Earth I’m barely acquainted with it and how silly is that for an author revising a novel filled with deep-sea volcanoes, deep-sea convection currents, extreme deep-sea environments, but no deepest trench on the planet, not even an allusion, or pertinent quip…

I refocused on the mirror and there she was and I immediately thought about the canceling of my son’s 4th birthday party this weekend due to rain (rain in November—come on!) and the shortsightedness of my planning all-outdoor activities and energetic games bathed in the usual Fall heatwave, which reminded me the non-whistling kettle was unattended on a lit burner belonging to a stove needing a deep cleaning, reminding me of the ache deep in my shoulder from sleeping around the cat all night instead of kicking him out of the bed, reminding me of the time I ate scallops and threw up, reminding me I need to order the birthday cake even if there’s no party, reminding me that hulu is to be avoided if cookies in train shapes are to be created, reminding me that nothing is more important than focusing on my novel in the evening, reminding me that, well, yes, some things are more important as long as they don’t involve grease cutters or Jason Isaacs and then I heard my boy cry out in his sleep, no doubt because his mother let him watch Monster House and he’s not even 4 yet and I left the deep-sea viperfish in the mirror to devour her own reflection and rushed to tend to life, life, life, life, life, life, life, life.  As I rubbed his back and uttered soothing sounds that are as naturally a part of me now as my love of peanut butter, I vowed to remember to trawl Amazon for books on the Mariana you-know-what—struck by how much Mariana sounds like marinara—and then I knew it was time for bed.