ManicDDaily

Pearl does not seem to have any more will than I.

Do you ever wake up with no will?

Your spine has softened, shrunk, during the night, turning you into something akin to a shell fish (willful enough, perhaps, when it comes to survival, but low on the ‘let’s just hurry up and get things done’ ladder.)

Somewhere inside that shellfish self, you are excited about the upcoming holiday, but outward enthusiasm has wilted, puddled, dessicated.  You feel like one of those  mosaics of dried earth that are always depicted in articles about droughts.   (A sub-arctic drought–it’s really freezing in your apartment.)

You make a list, wishing (for a moment) that you could just live your life on a mouse pad, running through each task with a few soft swipes of the finger, ordering not just merchandise, but activities, even a certain passage of time.

You are not, in other words, interested in process.

Mince tarts help.  (If someone hands them to you.)  That murky mixture of raisin and rum somehow sustaining.

The sounds of that same someone banging around your kitchen looking for something also tend to inspire a certain kind of “oh geez, I’ll get it,” motility.

Until you get back into bed again.

Under your covers.

And laptop.

And list…..

Ahhh……

Actually, maybe she has a little more. (But not much.)

This entry was posted on December 18, 2010 at 12:46 pm and is filed under Stress. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.