So Passover is over. It was totally rad, but was too short. It’s sad that holidays go by so quickly. I could definitely use a hell of a lot more vacation days… to write… to cook… to engage in some hardcore grrrlVIRUS’ing… catch up on lost sleeping hours. I think my pillow must feel rather lonely these days. My pillow once served as my comfort zone. I would clutch it tightly when I was scared; bury my hands under it when cold; soak it with my tears when caught in the agonizing grips of depression… or simply rest my head comfortably on it for a hearty nine or 10 hours, and schlaffen my way to semi-comatose bliss.
But these days, I’m lucky if I catch four or five hours of sleep. And it’s not always because I rather stay up watching movies (or something) with my boyfriend, or write till I can’t feel feelings anymore. I think it’s because work takes up so much of my time already that by the time I get home, if I do anything for myself, I’ll have to be doing it until ungodly hours. And also since I refuse to let work take a toll on my social life, I do indeed stay up until ungodly hours. And also because I am not particularly crazy about my job (and there is your runner-up for the Understatement of the Year Award), I also don’t particularly mind being a zombie while at work (and there is your winner of the Understatement of the Year Award).
I mean, seriously, being a zombie is awesome. And if I become a zombie as a subtle way of sticking it to the Man (namely, my boss) because he strives to inflict a slow and painful death on whatever’s left of my social life, this makes the metamorphosis into the undead that much more appealing and appropriate.
But still, I love sleeping. LOVE IT! I love coming home after a longass day at work, take a boiling hot shower, get into my longass baggy PJs, and under my big fat sheets with a longass, loud sigh of relief that my roommates may mistake for a moan one may pull when having the orgasm of a lifetime.
Waking up sucks, though. I long for my pillow the moment my alarm goes off (5:30). Which is also why I beat the living shit out of the snooze button every AM (until 6:30, at which point I’m already late for work). I am sore all over. My eyes are on fire, all bloodshot, and if I manage to open them, I squint my way to my wrinkled future. Chances are some random parts of my body are still asleep – one of my hands or my legs, my ass, my brain… Half of my face as well as my poor little pillow are covered in a substantial amount of drool. And sometimes, my neck is sore as I have a tendency to push my pillow with my shoulder in an attempt to fluff it up, until the pillow eventually finds its way into the crevice between my bed and the wall and disappears.
The worse, I think, is waking up cold. Even if I am covered in a fuckload of winter sheets and am wearing several layers of extra warm PJs, my face still remains uncovered because I, like, need to breathe, like you know, so I don’t suffocate. And in winter, if I don’t make sure my electricity bill arrives as an active grenade in my mailbox as I leave the heater on full blast all night long, I’ll have ice forming on my nose and my cheeks by the morning.
That being said, I am totally looking forward to my trip to the Zone tonight. Since I am already a zombie, it should be a breeze.