DAEDALUS AS A 21
ST
CENTURY WOMAN by Sue Stanford
Beware of dropping The Day in a heap on the floor
of your room. You may manage a brief oblivion, but then
she will wake you. You will have to bath her and tease
the neglected knots from her hair. You will find yourself
combing each tress over and over again. It’s hypnotic.
You can’t deny you enjoy it. But all the time sleep is flowing away…
Then, your arm being pleasantly tired, you will lay down your
comb and your head, only to find Tomorrow, that littlest
sister, demanding her share of attention. She’ll plead she is
helpless, deprived of your forethought, and demand that you plan
your escape from the dangerous minotaur lair. And even though
you are longing for sleep, she’ll have your heart thumping.
So you’ll spend the next couple of hours constructing a flying
machine: tasks carefully rotated to fit the slight gaps your
schedule contains. Gaps incredibly edgewise and brief, like
those moments of drowsiness left before you must exit your bed.
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