Late One Night

Late at night, seated in bed, night lamp on, laptop - well on lap. Husband next to me lying mouth open, emanating noises that sound like a snore, the miny breeze he is causing feels like a snore but can’t be because he does not snore. Pointlessly shoot husband dirty looks. Free from insomnia he sleeps on despite my loud typing. Decide to check blog stats. Oh well, most of world wide web seems to be unaware of my writing but I have few faithful readers. Search engines that spread their tentacles through these webs also result in a few passersby.

I see a few late night searches. For a moment I feel a bond. Fellow insomniacs. We are bonded by our inability to sleep and the Internet. Dig deeper into the stats to look up what the fellow insomniacs had on their minds. What lead them to my humble, virtual abode? Was it my wit, the sparkling commentary on the drama in my life, my insight? Do they relate with my work from homeness, my frustration with dance classes?

Handy tool that reports key words entered into the search engines, recently installed, pays off.

A couple of clicks lead me to the queries that tracked back to me.

- My hello aunty article where I lamented about how I missed the older generation in USA had good traffic

"aunty in high heels"

"forceful aunty"

"indian aunty in wet saree"

"indian aunties"

"Lovely indian aunties"

After a deep sigh at the predilections of my fellow insomniacs I move on to the next source of traffic

" A string of pearls for her sweet ass"

" butt pearls"

" pearls to turn her on"

Not one soul seemed to want the pearls as an ornament for any part waist up.

Notice now that I can also see county where the traffic came from. Feel a further sense of disappointment when I realize that the searches were made in broad daylight by folks across the Atlantic. It occurs to me that they probably go home to enjoy a full night’s sleep after their exertions during the day. SIGH