Sit Spot Journal - Day 5

The day had been a long and tiring one. By the time I made it to my sit spot, it was 10:40 pm. Actually, it was 10:39 when I first went out to the backyard swing, but the unexpected chilliness of the night air forced me inside to switch my shorts for jeans.

If the early morning belongs to the birds, then the late night belongs to the crickets. They kept me company with their chirping the entire time I was outside. While listening to them, I felt myself slipping away into sleep. I fought the drowsiness by shifting around and focusing on the moon.

In my sleepy state, it seemed as though the amber moon began to grow. It soon filled the sky. The background sound of cars on 101 transformed into the restless sound of people at the theater. The unseen audience quieted suddenly when the silhouette of a lean man with wild hair stepped from the shadows and took his place on a podium I hadn't noticed before. He cleared his throat and raised both arms. In one hand was what looked like a conductor's baton. He brought the baton down with a dramatic swipe and the invisible orchestra began to play Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata". It was the worst arrangement I had ever heard. The piano carrying the melody sounded fine, but it was drowned out by the accompanying string section. They were out of tune and didn't sound anything like violins. They sounded more like crickets. I craned my neck to peek into the orchestra pit and thought I saw a row of antennae, but couldn't be sure, so I tried to stand.

And that's when I woke up. I checked my watch. I had been asleep for three minutes. I stayed out a few extra minutes after the alarm to make up the time and then dragged myself to bed, swearing I wouldn't repeat the mistake of visiting my sit spot so late at night.