It’s Thursday, Friday eve for most, but comparatively, it is my Tuesday, and just like anyone else with lively employment, I weasel through the weeded workweek with the goal of keeping my heart full and head intact.

So far, so good, but how about the rest of yous?

I woke to the dull light of day gleaming minutely around the edges of my thickly covered windows and thought, “It must be time”. I fall out of the ridiculously tall bed with a phone that did not charge.

I emerge from the bathroom and Melody joins me to get her breakfast quickly. There is no coffee, so I make tea.

We are lucky to be here, with so much work to do, homes to keep, projects to manage, and responsibilities to see to.

But this feels like a hangover Thursday, or compared to the average workweek it would be a hangover Tuesday, and by hungover I don’t mean I got so drunk last night I am having a physical reaction in the next day, rather it’s a hangover from the rush of a Monday, or in my case, Wednesday; the fatigue that comes with doing everything, and then forcing yourself to get up on time and do it all over again. I’m still drying out from previous weaseling, and I’m tired like I didn’t just get a full night of rest, and tending to the typical to-dos feels rather like a headache.

I’m still just so friggin glad to be here, surrounded by all of this shit to do. Am I falling in love? I see life without its makeup done and it’s walking around the house in nothing but period panties, and I’m… comforted? Maybe I just know what I like.

It helps to listen and take care of a body (Keith’s advice to me when the weaseling gets rough, not my own devising) I vehemently ignored in the past. I try to respond with expediency when it starts to scream at me for something—similarly to the way I respond to Melody in the morning when she pleads knowingly from the other side of the bathroom door.

I found a few lonely beans in the back of my coffee cabinet to brew into a piping hot cup o’ juh, bringing my morning beverage count up to 4. The slightly enlarged orange deer coffee cup joins a large Mason jar of water, a medium sized floral ceramic cup emptied of a fruity tea, and half a glass of ginger ale, held in a Breaking Bad themed glass displaying an image of the Heisenberg and the phrase “I am the one who knocks!” I think it goes without saying I’ve gone to the bathroom about 8 times. I think drinking a lot of liquids will force me down the rapids of a productive, hard-working day, which we all need on a Thursday (Tuesday). The lull of a long week ahead is only a glass of water to be quietly consumed besides several other things. It goes down okay, just like everything else. I’ll try not to look like a sad puppy in the window when tomorrow comes and ya’ll fly out the schoolyard gates like you’ve been set free from prison ten years early, and I’m trapped inside calmly drinking down a Wednesday.

_{^{January 25, 2024}}

---