“Any idiot can face a crisis, it is this day-to-day living that wears you out.”
I don’t ride my bike enough.
I don’t see my kids enough.
I don’t sleep enough.
I drink too much wine.
I spend too much time in worlds that aren’t mine, like twitter and Facebook.
I curse too much and don’t laugh enough.
It’s either never enough or always too much. Of course, none of these are probably true, but it’s what I tell myself, so it’s how I feel.
On the upside, I cut back on my coffee…actually, I cut back on my caffeine intake, mostly by drinking half-caf. Maybe that helped with the getting to sleep–or maybe that’s the too much wine at work. Nothing has stopped the waking up at three in the morning, worries cascading and ricocheting down through my brain like pachinko balls, clattering and rattling against my teeth on their way out.
Then I’m vertical again, and on my way. Hot shower. Cold floor. Loose suit. Coffee that I don’t have time to drink because the cats must be fed.
Breakfast should be spent reclined, in a diner, spreading butter on biscuits, salting the potatoes just so, laughing with loved ones, looking at the pies in the glass case on the way out. Instead, I check the weather, news, email, shut the door on the cats, pull my scarf out of my sleeve, wrestle into my coat, open the door and walk down the drive.
Mind the ice.
It’s dark and silent out, just like inside our house. Everyone still sleeps. I slid like a moon shadow around their dreams and their steady breathing as I walked memorized paths over the creaks in the floor and through the invisible doors, black holes in dark walls. I never see them wake, refreshed, returning home when they are spent and struggling to float through the rising tide of sleep.
Finally I succumb too, lying on my back, staring at the stars as the warm sea of dreams rises around me, tallying my day with marks on my mind’s wall…not enough, not enough, too much, not enough. The ledger is never balanced.