I find it difficult to get out of bed in the morning, this is the most challenging point in my day, second only to finding the energy, or reason, to leave the house before the sun sets. My bed isn’t particularly comfortable, it’s disagreeable at best. It pulls out from the couch and I put layers of blankets over top to cover the tiny buttons that press into my hips and shoulders. I sleep with couch cushions under my head, tiny decorative couch cushions. When Elli is out of town I steal a pillow from her bedroom and I experience luxury.
I fall asleep with the television on because I don’t like thinking. This works miraculously. I like hearing other voices that are not my own. No streaming thoughts of fret and woe, just laugh tracks and the simplicity of American sitcoms.
I like cafes, and reading, but that requires at least some make up on my face, getting dressed, and money. I’ve got coffee at my house and I can wear my pajamas. I can sit in my underwear with my pimples exposed and listen to minimal electronic music that nobody else likes. Social interaction is best left to low lights that don’t remind me of how old I’ve gotten, and when the sun falls into the earth I can fall into bottles of whiskey and we can all be happy.