I wrote this a while ago. I called it, "Trying to Push Through Without Shoving."
Let me know what you think of it?
I lay in bed thinking up every possible thought I could have. Feeling my headache melt away, then come back when thoughts focused on the melting pain. Millie crawled under the covers and chose a spot between my legs. I imagined the comfort and security she must feel there as I wrapped my right leg around her body. If I was a dog, that would be one of my most memorable moments. It didn't take long for her to fall into her deep sleep, body twitching and flicking; paws, ears, the vibration of her REM. It echoed into the soft quilted mattress topper, which I got in part to entice the man in my life to come and sleep in my bed every once in a while.
Understanding that to my puppy there's nothing more like home than being under my comforter and 200-thread-count sheet, cradled between my legs, I felt guilty with the knowledge that my thoughts wanted to pull me out of bed. The next thought went to remembering the feeling of crawling in between cool sheets knowing the heat of your body would warm everything up in no time.
The apartment I looked at the other day was really cute and inexpensive, but what would the commute to work be like? Would I be isolating myself by moving further away from the company I keep on my weekends? It's not so much the distance as the effort it would take to get there. If I get the promotion and move to a different house it wouldn't be as simple as coming off the highway and hitting a few lights to get to work. I'd have to travel through town, hitting many more lights, dodging indecisive drivers, and slowing down for the j-crossers to park my car on a one-way street. If I stayed where I was at and I did get the job, I could walk to work more. But then it's very likely that I won't get the job, so let's not get ahead of ourselves.
If Nancy did call to offer me the promotion, what would I say? Would just a "thank you" suffice? Should I make it, "Thank you, I won't let you down"?...or something like that.
If I don't get it should I keep trying?
I'm not even going to look at those wedding photos till Monday. I should plug my IPod into the computer to update the play list, but I think I have more songs than what will fit on my machine. I wish my feet were prettier. I wish I could get electrolysis. I wish my hamster wasn't so scared of me. If I did move I'd have to not pay this months rent and make arrangements to pay it later. She could use my deposit, I can't imagine she would need it for much repairs on my unit. Normal wear and tear, that's all. It'd all be better in the long run.
There are 21 days till my birthday. I wish I could put time on hold until I straightened out my life. No, I don't really wish for that. Will he make time for me? A date? A day trip? Will he ask me to take time off with him? Pay day is this week. My earnings are already spent.
I closed my eyes and then opened them, looked around the unlit room. Without my glasses I could locate my alarm clock but not read the numbers and knew my cell phone was still charging on the nightstand to my right. There was starting to be a glow through my windows; my part of the earth just began to find the sun.
For a moment I thought, "I could lie here with my eyes open until sleep came to close them again." There were still a few hours before I needed to get up for work, but I know me. If I don't unload the activity in my brain then sleep won't find me and I'll get increasingly frustrated at the thought of combining a long day ahead of me with not enough rest. Millie stirred and stretched. I took that opportunity to sit up. I felt my legs pull back around her, reached under the covers to find her belly and back for a short massage. Her gratitude showed as she stretched more, giving me a less hindered access to her stomach. It was as if she had hoped I would touch her.
Writing would be good. Millie stayed under the covers for a moment until she heard that I was putting on my glasses, then she followed me to the sofa where she soon resumed her REM sleep. Still, she's cradled in the bend of my legs. I wonder if she has a preference: here or in bed. I imagine not. I get the feeling that her home is wherever I am.
I'm fine. This is old. Was ok then too. Thank you.