(day 14 of 30 in 30)
My day goes like this;
I wake up, in general 30 minutes later than I need to, effectively rendering my ability to put on a full face of makeup null and void. “Good Morning” plays, softly at first, then gradually growing louder. I am usually fully awake by the time Kanye says, “You got D’s mufucka, D’s! Rosie Perez…”
I lie there for awhile, convincing myself mightily to get out of bed. Before I even open my eyes, my mind shifts from park directly into 3rd gear. I am overrun with to do lists and deadlines and errands and the stresses I wrestled with the night before until I passed out from exhaustion before I even brush my teeth.
I get up and pee. I avoid turning on the light because it is too bright and I am still half asleep. I brush my teeth and throw products at my face and slick my hair back into a single braid or ponytail or up into a bun. Sometimes I put on makeup. Most times I slick on mascara and tinted lip balm and deodorant and call it a day. I can do most of this without having to look in the mirror because I do it every day.
I walk to my closet, arranged by color and garment in my OCD way, and generally choose some variation of the same uniform; dark blue jeans, a cute top or company t-shirt; sensible flats. I slip into them quickly and rotely head over to my jewelry box where I put on the same jewelry; big silver hoops. Ceramic watch. Two rings, two bracelets.
I head upstairs and pack a lunch bag, the contents of which I may or may not eat during the day; a granola bar and fruit for breakfast. Leftovers I cooked the night before, already pre-weighed and packaged for lunch. I take out something for dinner. I march downstairs, grab my keys, drop my cell phone in the pocket in my purse, set the alarm and let up the garage. In that order. Every day.
On the way to work I am more awake than I was when I stumbled into my darkened bathroom but still not wide awake. Sometimes I listen to music. Some days I can’t bear the stimulus. A lot of times, I simply daydream during the 40 minute ride straight up the highway I take every day, have taken almost every day since I moved here.
I swipe myself through the gate with my badge and I park on the right side of the parking lot. I say good morning to whoever is at the security desk inside, barely bothering to notice who it is. I take the elevator up one floor because I am already tired and don’t want to waste the energy on the stairs.
I check emails and voicemails. I return emails and voicemails. I check programs and make updates and take phone calls and answer questions and make funny but appropriate jokes at the right times. I am well liked. I do my job well. I have been doing it for 5 years. I could do it in my sleep. Most days, I am doing it in my sleep.
I work through lunch. And I clear my desk by 4, in most cases. Some days if I am feeling ambitious, I work into the next day. Other days I watch videos or play spider solitaire. I have gotten very good at two suites, but I can’t quite manage four. I don’t have the energy to try more than a time or two.
I shut down my computer at the end of the day and leave, saying goodnight to whomever is now at the security desk without turning my head. I walk towards the right side of the parking lot, careful to avoid the bushes usually over run with the bees I am allergic to. I head to the gym or yoga or Zumba. Or to meet my mom for dinner. Later at home I shower, standing underneath the waterfall of water, washing away the entire day. Some days I am so out of it I don’t even notice I have turned the water up way too hot. I wash my body with the body wash that helps me go to sleep when I can manage to turn my mind off. I wash my hair on Wednesdays and Sundays. I wash my face last. I dry off and lotion head to toe, inhaling the relaxing scent as deeply as I can. I pull on panties and a tank top and start turning off the bright overhead lights. I check the alarm and make sure the door is locked. Then I crawl into bed. Sometimes I read. Sometimes I watch reruns of Friends I have watched so many times that I laugh before the punch lines. I try to avoid any conversations, music or books that will send me careening into my feelings before I lay my head down on my pillow. Around midnight I set my alarm to play Kanye West, cut off my bedside lamp and scoot down in my over indulgent covers. No matter the season, I wrap myself up like a burrito, completely insulated from neck to toe. I curl up on my left side, and think the same thought every night before I go to sleep;
This can’t be life.