Oh Deer

Whatever you do, don’t have a cold mozzarella panini drowning in hummus before bed. I can’t imagine what I was thinking, especially being on my Amish ear diet and all.

I worked late two nights in a row so my schedule was off.  I’m such a creature of habit, waking early…trolling to Starbucks at 6. When I don’t get home till almost midnight, all bodily hell breaks loose.

And to think, when they wheeled out enough Chinese food to feed Somalia I was strong enough to pass. “Oh no,” I said, while everyone else grazed at the trough, “I couldn’t possibly have that, especially at this hour.”

My culinary victory was short-lived, however, when I found half a sandwich in my purse from earlier in the day. Not that I’m supposed to have cheese either, but it was lesser of all evils so I had picked out the greens and a smidgen of mozzarella as a little midday snack.

Standing naked after a twenty minute shower washing off body make-up that had turned a sick shade of green, I stood at the sink and ate that mother as if I was going to the chair.

Which brings me to why one should opt for perhaps little lighter fare at 1 am.

I pass out like the dead the minute hitting the pillow, and at once start dreaming. Don’t know about you, but I dream in Technicolor and Dolby Sound. I mean you could film what goes through my head in the old REM stage of sleep.

Suddenly, as if I’d been tapped, I sit up feeling a presence in the room. Two very big eyes are staring back at me. They blink as if to say, Hi, I’m Bambi and I think I may have taken the wrong left.    images-36

I realize now you know I am properly certifiable, but it was so real that it actually got me out of bed. I turned the light on, and naturally, whatever it was or wasn’t, was gone.

I tried recollecting my dream before awakening. I was in Long Island with my friend Linda taking pictures. We were going to Central Park, but ended up at Teddy Roosevelt’s house in Oyster Bay instead. I kind of knew where that came from after just soliciting my pal Ed asking if we could go there on another day trip. Sagamore Hill, the estate’s name, used to be a working farm surrounded by lake and wildlife. So I guess, while I was there with Linda, without Ed, a deer popped in the backseat and came home with me.

It was such a real, tangible image that it stayed with me all day.

I have no explanation except to say, the next time I find as much as a cookie in my tote, it’s going right out the window…

oh deer, oh deer.

SB

Advertisements

About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Amazon.com. Thanks.
This entry was posted in animals, food, friendship, History, humor, New York City, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

11 Responses to Oh Deer

  1. micklively says:

    It’s your rustic yearnings bursting through Susannah. We see deer on our lunchtime bimbles, along with rabbits and newts and buzzards. Are you jealous? 😉

    Like

  2. I can identify with the reality of what you saw, Susannah. When I was young I saw boogie men and monsters walk over and stand by my bed. The only way they went away was if I reached out to touch them. I just knew that sooner or later, instead of vanishing, one would be real. And I can still visualize how real and solid they looked to this day. I’ll be writing about how I laid traps for them in a future post.
    So be thankful it was Bambi in your bedroom.

    Like

  3. Wow, what a trip. The closest I get to that is when I have a fever.

    Like

  4. katecrimmins says:

    Imagine what it would have been is had chased it with a martini!

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s