Heavy sleep then a bewildered wake up to a phone two minutes premature to alarming. Lately, I’ve been waking up with enough notifications to make me feel needed. Today, several missed text messages, notifications from all three of the social sites with which my phone’s affiliated, emails, and even a missed call. I shove it all back off the bed and go back to sleep to catch back up to that twisting yellow dream set someplace between a desert and the reoccurring jungle.
But I can’t sleep. It isn’t worry or even direct discomfort. My foot’s still filled with acid, my life’s still out of order, but something else is off. Some other, indefinable thing that bursts into the engine room of my adrenal systems and shouts beware, before turning the corner and disappearing without explanation. So I lie on my side, trying to make the effort of keeping my eyes shut effortless, but sleep won’t come and my eyes open whenever I stop forcing them closed.
It takes me less than a minute to sort my notifications. Junk, junk, items that don’t need my attention, more junk, and rhetorical text messages. Two rejection letters. Months and months waiting on items sent in different seasons and their rejection notes come on the same day? How absurd.
I should get up. Kung fu at noon. No editing gigs today, I should edit some of my own stuff. I should write, do the dishes, build more planters. Should do something, but instead I lie back down. I can’t sleep, but I can hear the rain picking at the ice on the window sill. The time emptied comforter feels stifling, the imagined weight of all the things I should do and should’ve done are smothering me underneath it. So I shrug it off and let the fan dry the sweat on my back.
On the way home from kung fu I spot a patch of weeds that had been covered by snow when I left this morning. Heavy starch plants, ably to survive unchallenging cold. Close to the ground, fairy garden perfect in shape and size, the most vivid green I’ve seen since spring.
So, the day’s not all bad. It hasn’t even really begun.