megdanielle

All I want to do right now is curl up with either my December edition of Women’s Health or Cold Tangerines by Shauna Niequist on my futon in my beautiful, quaint apartment. I think my muscles just relaxed at the thought of it. However I feel it necessary to paint you a real picture of my surroundings. I am still sans mattress for what is entering the sixth month and my futon mattress, which I long to lounge on, is located not on my futon frame but rather on the floor of my bedroom, hidden under sheets, pillows and blankets and a very large, inviting comforter (inviting or not, the fact remains that I am sleeping on the floor).

And so it can be appreciated, I assume, that my situation is not quite so ideal for the reading of good literature or good health tips. Alas, even in the comforts of my own home I find my attempts at rest and relaxation thwarted.

This lack of R&R has sent me into an examination of sorts. First, I don’t trust my water here enough to drink. Ergo, I find myself intensely dehydrated at this very moment. Why don’t I trust it? Well, the hot water smells a bit like feet although the cold water remains odor free. It’s probably fine but I find myself lusting after Brita water jugs and water coolers. They’re dancing around, splashing water right and left from their open tops in my mind. It’s a very strange image; I’ll grant you that.

Secondly, my body is in dire need of some exercise. I think that my spine is collapsing. Is it possible for your spine to decay and collapse in the span of six months? I think that mine is. Just think, sleeping on a futon and then on a floor (which is sadly more comfortable than the futon mattress on the frame, if you can believe it) for over five months – what kind of toll would that take on the body? Let me tell you. My back is aching. Literally, it aches as if I were an old woman whose bones were betraying her body, falling in upon themselves into a pile of dust and grime. Couple that with dehydration that robs my joints of lubrication and I might as well collapse myself in a corner to wither. My only hope is that exercise will bring my old bones back to life so that they may remember once more what it feels like to be in my early 20’s. Say a prayer for me.

Thirdly, my old bones, dehydration, and poor sleeping patterns have led to my youth’s total demise. One, I’m crotchety. Two, I’m achy. Three, I’m WRINKLY! Or rather, wrinkling. It’s true. I knew it would happen to me someday but I had hoped and prayed that I could make it at least until my 25th birthday before the fine lines mapped out their plan to take what youth has granted me. Bastard wrinkles; you have no welcome here!

Bottom line – I’m losing it, my tight (or – let’s be honest – somewhat loose but still sane) grip on reality. Water jugs are dancing; wrinkles are plotting their hostile takeover; and I’m to be found “lounging” on a folding chair in the corner of the room. *Sigh*

And the worst part? I’ve tasks to complete before my tired body can be granted stay on the floor yet tonight. I can’t go on.