Exercising Demons

Not exorcising, exercising. The voices have been quiet lately; in fact, I’ve actually strung together a couple of good nights of sleep. It worries me when the boys don’t have their A-game going, sort of like when your dog is sick. You try to get her to play, throwing the ball, setting up the chess board, that sort of thing, but she just lays there. So it is with the demons … it makes me sad, as if it’s somehow my fault. And anyway, exorcism’s for those mackerel-snapping Catholics and potential Republican vice-presidential running mates. From the inestimable Tom Waits:

If I exorcise my devils
Well my angels may leave too
When they leave they're so hard to find

So I said to Mr. Z (who’s not really the leader, as the boys are fiercely independent, but more like a spokesman or liaison), I got me a plan.

I bought a bottle of gin, two cases of beer, and went camping alone. No music, no one to talk to, just me in the woods. They seemed to enjoy the workout, and I’m sure they’ll be much perkier in the future. Exercise, along with a healthy diet, is very important.

Needless to say, the boys are back in town.