I wake up at 7:50am and realize that I don’t have it in me to arise. I feel a rush of anger about daylight savings. I let the anger go and decide to go back to sleep without setting the alarm. I feel the warm embrace of my comforter and the sweet caress of my pillow against my cheek before drifting away.
I wake up for a second time at 9:00am. My soul aches to remain in bed but somehow I force myself up and walk sleepily into the living room. I see that the plant is in worse shape than yesterday—wilted and limp. I carry it to the sink and decide to douse it in water. I say to the plant, “I’m trying my best but I don’t know that you were meant for me.” I decide that if I cannot revive it in the next couple of days that it would be best to give it up. I fantasize about leaving it on someone’s doorstep like an unwanted orphan.
I pour myself a large cup of coffee and take a big sip of it so that I won’t spill on my way back to my bedroom. I sit on the edge of my bed with my elbows on my legs and stare down at the carpet. It’s the dirty part of the carpet that frustrates my fastidious side but delights the shadowy part of me that wants to destroy things.
I grudgingly stumble into the bathroom, pull out my razor and shave my cheek carefully so as not to ruin the line of my beard. For a moment I despise my vanity and, therefore, my beard and my hair (the parts of me that I allow my vanity to concern itself with). I look at my belly and my breasts and feel a moment of guilt about my failure to exercise since the time change.
I go into the shower and reluctantly wash my hair and body. After cleaning myself I lean my left temple and shoulder against the shower wall and stand there for what seems like half an hour. I enjoy the way the wall holds me up and the way the water warms me by raining sweetly onto my body. My bed and shower: two selfless lovers who embrace and caress me without hesitation.
And now I sit in my dirty bathrobe writing this–a way of avoiding the “adult” responsibilities that will define the rest of this day. Suddenly I realize I want to end this with a prayer. To whom, I do not know. Perhaps it does not matter…
Please allow my sensitive body to adjust to the time change so that I may feel rested and strong in the morning. Please help me make peace with solitude so that I may use it to connect to the world rather than avoid it. Please help my tears flow so that I may feel sad instead of numb. Please help me face the inevitable hurdles of this week with grace. I am not asking for money, a lover, a partner, a house–only for grace. I hope it is not asking too much.