I hate my alarm.
No, Jen, start over.
Today will be a new day. I feel gratitude for the mattress beneath me, for my alarm clock beeping, for my tangled hair that I still have on my head. I will get up, have some breakfast, and go to work. Simple.
I don’t feel well.
Wait, why did you just think that? You feel fine. You have a little nervous twitch in your belly because it’s Wednesday. Just take a deep breath…1…2.3…4…hold….2…3….4….exhale…2….3….4. And up! Start the day!
I would like it if I could become more of a morning person. Something to aspire too. Little goals. Baby steps.
Let’s see…coffee before anything. My heart is beating normal, should be fine. I need it. I had that dream….what was that dream?
There was that house again, on the side of the river in the woods. The big balcony had the vines overgrowing the house, like in all the dreams. At one point, I was with a couple of people, I think one of them was Kate from group therapy and the other was possibly my dad, but it kept changing.
Shit. Grounds everywhere. Fuck it. I’ll clean it up later. Just need coffee.
I need more milk. Milk milk milk. Don’t forget to pick up milk. I can also swing by the tea house. I’m running out of tea.
No, you aren’t running out of tea. You have 50 different kinds of tea, you just need retail therapy and you can justify buying tea because it isn’t booze, cigarettes, or sugar. You don’t need more tea. I am running out of honey.
And my head is already onto what else I can buy when I get milk. Jen, you have a refrigerator full of food and only one person to feed. Stop buying things you don’t need, you piece of shit.
Wow….that was an extreme response. It’s honey.
Sorry, self! That kind of talk is not self serving. Drink your coffee, you little rockstar, and get ready for the day!
Do I put on the news? Maybe just the weather. Nah, I can just look on my phone. Decent day.
I am grateful for a decent start to what I hope is a decent day.
I want to stay in my pajamas. I should never invest in comfortable pajamas. I never want to take them off my body. It’s a motivation problem.
I’ll need to bring this coffee into the bedroom…not the bathroom. You are not the kind of person who drinks coffee on the toilet. Be grateful for that.
Poop. You don’t want to do that at work. Can it happen?
Will it happen?
I need to wash my bathmat.
Yup. Good. See, something is already going well today.
Thank you, self, for having an apple last night. I am grateful for fiber.
I need to clean the corners of the floor here…wow, it gets dusty fast. I don't want to think about bathroom floors.
Your’s is only used by you, so chill and put clean the bathroom on your to-do list. It’ll be done by Springtime. Hahaa.
Nah, I’ll put it on the to do for the weekend. I’m not a complete basket case, I like to live in a nice home.
Clothes: Black pants, are they clean? Yes. Okay, simple black top? Yes. This is a no effort kind of morning, and that’s okay.
I need to do laundry. I only have silly socks. Why do I have so many pairs of socks that I can’t wear?
One day, I will be the kind of classy woman who has perfectly hung clothes in the closet and folded pants in the drawers. I will have socks that match, not just themselves, but my outfit itself. I will not have to wear boots that cover my socks not only because they have yellow stripes, but also because they don’t reach up to the bottom of my pants and my hairy dry leg skin is showing.
It’s one of those things where someone’s eye will be drawn to the yellow socks, and they’ll see how they don’t work with the professional/casual look of black on black, and while they are looking at the socks, they will see… the dry flakey hairy legs. Any credibility is out the window.
Someday, I will have smooth clear legs that I will show off with unripped pantihose and high heels, but today, I will secretly be a child wearing grown-up clothes.
I need new razors. I will only have nice legs for so long, and my elderly self will want to look back with pride. I need to clean my fucking house. Dammit, the windows are dirty.
Stop.
Not helpful. Right now, all you can do is the next right thing, and that is go to work.
So brush your long tangled hair and don’t focus on the split ends. It’s a ponytail day.
I am so thankful that I invested in good lightning. My freckles look cute in this light, especially across my button nose. I am thankful for my nose.
My lips on the other hand…I do not have pouty lips. Thin thin lips. Ugh.
Stop. Be nice to yourself: you love your big brown eyes. For every negative thing I say about myself, I will say one positive.
Deal?
Deal.
I don’t feel well.
Why do I keep thinking that? I’m fine, I just don’t want to go to work.
What time is it? What have I been doing this whole time?
I have bags under my eyes, do I have time for one of those gold eye mask things? No.
Just a little make-up then. You are going to work, not a night out. I should have a night out soon, I love my couch too much.
What did I just step in? Foundation. Fuck, I’ll have to clean that up later. Why do I spill everything?
This is taking too much time. Just even it out with your fingers…
fine.
Chapstick not lipstick. It's the dry season. The skin on my hands is cracking. That’s attractive.
My father’s feet were always dry and cracked. Do people think that about my hands? I need to get it together to moisturize. I’ll make that a priority.
Old hands. Workers' hands. Stop staring at your hands.
Last looks: very girl next door business casual today. Well done.
Wear your winter coat, Jenny, you’d rather be warm than fashionable. It makes sense with the boots. Why do I always slip off my boots? Every single time I have to untie them, I decide that I’m not going to do this anymore. It’s better to add time to the end of the day than the beginning. What kind of knot is this?
Got it.
You look great kiddo! Grab your keys and go go go.
Next time I invest in a winter coat, it will not be yellow. “Big Blob of Mustard on a Pickle Fork”
That’s what I would call me.
Keys in hand. Phone…where’s my bag?
Oh, right in front of me. Okay, keys, phone, wallet.
Check.
To the garage.
I love this smell. The musty garage smells of gasoline, mold, dust, dirt, and oil. Why do I love this smell? What do I associate it with? I’ve loved it since I was a kid.
“Hi car. Ready?”
Yup, me too. Let’s ride.
I am grateful for garage door openers. Good job remembering to be thankful for the small stuff. That’s important, and you are good at it.
Look at these people all going to work…all leaving their homes like people. See, they do it every day too! They manage to go to work and come home and be human.
What would I do if I had a child? Like, what does the kid do after work starts but before school? Bring them to work? A nanny? I don’t know how to parent. Doesn’t matter. I don’t have offspring.
Well, I might..
Why would you think about that right now? Ugh! Stop.
My thoughts are butterflies, watch them flutter away.
Watch them flutter away.
Breathe 1,2,3,4, Hold, 2, 3,4, Out, 2,3,4.
Ugh, I forgot my book. Stupid idiot.
Oh my gosh! Enough with the negative self-talk. It does not serve anyone. Bright side: you’ll be forced to practice your social skills at lunch instead of reading.
Drive.
