When one's brain becomes tofu, you just can't do anything much. Whatever you write becomes bland and white-ish and if you were to try to read a book, you'll read the same paragraph over and over again without understanding much of what you've read. You might try going for facebook, yet all you see are blur-ish posts and your fingers are just scrolling along mindlessly.
Because with a tofu brain, the brain feels heavy, bland, mooshi-whooshi; the silken type. There's nothing I can do, really. So, I sleep. Tofu brain likes this. I fell asleep immediately my head touches the pillow.
I sleep through the sound of husband tipp-tapping on his keyboard.
I sleep through the noise of dripping waters in the kitchen as my cleaner cleans the sink.
I sleep through an orchestra of barking dogs.
I sleep through the choir of neighbours shouting at their dogs.
I sleep through gates opening.
I sleep through gates closing.
A neighbour drives his or her car into the driveway. Which neighbour? Who cares? I sleep through this too.
DING DONG! I woke up. Someone presses the doorbell. It is my son, back from school. I am awake now. I put away the blanket and pillow, have some cookies and juice with son, and start to write.
Brain is back to normal.
