Sleepless in Ithaca

The receptionist cheerfully assures us that the worst thing that could find us inside the camping site is our imagination; I wonder if she would feel differently now, half covered with the spiders teeming everywhere; I wonder if the spiders are poisonous.

I beat away a huge bug with translucent, blind, bulbous eyes, trying to sneak into my sleeping bag and roll over on my side; everyone else in the party of eight is sleeping peacefully, calmly, serenely.

I have to wonder if I am still awake at 4 in the morning because of the omnipresent bugs or if I am seeing nasty insects everywhere because I am still awake at 4 in the morning.

I take all night to try and reach a conclusion; by the time I decide that the matter needs more careful, coherent thought, the sun is well up in the sky.

Bloodshot eyes and a weary soul, I am among the first to rise.