Sweet Dreams

I sing Jesus Christ Superstar songs to my son as lullabies, mainly because these are the only songs I know from start to finish, having listened to the soundtrack a couple thousand times between 1973 and 1976. All the songs are pretty depressing when you think about them, not exactly comforting, but as soon as I let loose I don't know how to love him, my son's eyes drop to half mast and he gets that drunk little smile that says he is about to go out like a light.

Speaking of lights, whilst I sang He scares me so, a little earwig scuttled along the edge of the light fixture in his room and when I say little, I mean little—barely longer than the fingernail of a long-fingered person, but the shadow it cast on the wall from the extreme backlighting of the bulb made this earwig the size of a rat—its antennae forming the tail—scurrying along the wall. I'm talking huge.

If you're waiting for the point to this post, there isn't one.