Pureka Painting

Driving home from work, my vision fades, fuzzes, then refocuses. I shake my head. I toss my shoe off and prop my foot up on the dash to stretch my grumpy body. It's five in the evening; I am an hour from home, returning after a seven am shift that had me splashing fresh coffee in the old McDonald at five in the morning as I slip behind the wheel. Shoe up on the window, I reach for the window and roll it down, letting the wind counteract the heat from the setting sun, the sun that I know is causing my Irish skin the nice window batch of summer freckles to begin popping out. The window helps but I eye ball the "Scenic View" pull off thinking if it'd be safe to snooze there for a moment, while people jump out of their car to oogle the beautiful Berkshires.
I find myself instead pulling off in the town of Northfield, tucking my car behind an art gallery I have often looked at, with the neon "Open" sign always dark as I pass by. "Might as well stop by in some capacity," I say out loud cracking the wheel right. In a position I'm beginning to get use to, I throw the car in park, cut the engine, tossing the keys into my purse and without buckling drop the car seat back, plug in the time I want to wake up into my cell phone and this time skip removing my glasses because I am just too tired to care if the nose piece tries to relocate my natural nose position while asleep.
Minutes later my alarm goes off, I hop up, refreshed, do a loop outside the car to make sure I'm fully awake, stretching and glancing around to see if I had any observers noting my strange behavior. Finding none, I touch my toes, then climb back into the car to finish the drive home.
Letting the dog out, tossing food into her bowl, wrestling her for a bit, I inform her I'm going upstairs to sleep. It's six pm. I stumble into bed and sink in, not bothering to kick off my shoes or pull the blankets over myself. Yet, eyes closed, sleep doesn't come. Restful meditation yes, but sleep no, so up I get, hollar down to Chloe she's welcome to join me at any time, and proceed to have a delightful evening playing with my car and drifting to the painting calling my attention on the desk. Painting with Chris Pureka singing in my big oversized headphones, drumming with my paintbrushes on the plastic table cloth Mum made me promise to put down, I began to refresh my painting hands, my mixing brain and finally began to sort out the background to a painting from early last summer. What a nice evening.