(day -7): 1 a.m. musings

Another sleepless night, so here I am, writing more words as a new day has technically begun.

I made the mistake of making my way to Netflix this evening to watch the German murder-mystery, Close to Home: Murder in the Coalfield.

Bad decision. Not because the series is bad. I watched 2 of its 6 episodes, and as far as I can tell it is just as riveting and suspenseful as many other good shows in that genre.

I know, because there was a time, when D was 2–3 years old, when this was the only kind of show I liked to watch. The kind that Netflix describes as gritty, dark, and/or suspenseful. I steer clear off the ones labelled ominous; I have never had any stomach for supernatural horror.

Turns out, I no longer have any appetite for gritty murder mysteries either. Especially the ones that come up with supremely ingenious ways to inflict trauma on the victims.

It makes me sick now to watch all that, and that old friend anxiety surfaces once again in that out-of-control way at the insiduous knowledge that horrible things happen in the world little D is growing up in.

I am not naïve. I do know awful things happen in this world but that's no reason to keep reminding myself of only that aspect of reality. Because it is also true that the world can be a kind and compassionate place, when we expect it to be so.

A couple of years ago, I learnt that readers of books and viewers of shows such as police procedurals and murder mysteries often love these genres because the criminal is caught in the end and brought to justice.

Seemingly these shows provide intense emotional satisfaction to those of us who feel helpless in the face of all the injustice in the real world.

I still love cozy mysteries though where the murder is off-screen and the focus is more on solving the mystery in a comfortable, often hilarious, setting, and not filled with upsetting details.

One such series is the Patricia Fisher Mystery Adventures series of books by hugely prolific British author Steven Higgs.

Patricia is a child-free, middle-aged woman who catches her husband cheating, so she walks out on him after wiping out his bank account and using almost all the money to buy a ticket for herself on board a cruise ship.

She solves a number of mysteries on board the ship, and I believe in one such story, she helps out a Maharajah, following which he provides for her accommodation in a palace with 70+ roooms, which is where she's residing when the first book in the Mystery Adventures series begins.

It's a laugh-out-loud mystery, and I enjoyed reading the books a while back. Reckon I'll pick up What Sam Knew now.

It will give me a few laughs and help me fall back asleep, safe and secure in the knowledge that even the worst depravity in the world can be made palatable through the lens of humour and light-heartedness.

8 a.m. update

Little D came down with fever last night. At 2 a.m., his body was raging, and after the meds had worked their magic, we had a 3 a.m. snack of milk and biscuits.

It's been a pretty sleepless night, so today is going to be a day of hanging out with D, pottering about the house, reading a lot, and generally staying away from the screen after I have posted this.

Bye, bye, my home on the Internet! I'll pay a visit either later tonight or tomorrow at the latest.

Here's to a day of rest and recovery, of relaxation and recharging!