Well, this is awkward.
I am committed to posting on this blog every Tuesday and Saturday. I love doing this blog. It’s fun, it gives me hope, and it gives me purpose. But today, I have a snag. I carry all my stories in my laptop so that I can update quickly in the midst of my travels.
Today I don’t have my laptop.
Like I said, awkward.
But to show my heart is in the right place, I’ll try and give you a little something. Here goes. -BW
INSPIRED BY A WRITING PROMPT
Mornings are hard. You know what else is hard?
Seriously, squeeze a rock sometime.
Five minutes ago, I had no idea my life was ruined, because I wasn’t even sure that I had a life. After all, I was asleep. Ah, sweet sleeping bliss, how I miss you. Now I am awake, and I instantly regret it. My head hurts, my butt hurts, and my bed hurts. In fact, everything I touch hurts. Now that my gradually more lucid mind thinks of it, maybe my hand just hurts, and I experience the pain whenever I touch something.
That makes sense now.
Holy crud do I need to find myself some coffee.
Although I have many mornings like this, the beginning of this day is a little more intense. It’s because the night before was a bit out of the normal. It really is a shame that the morning after should pay the dues of the night before. I’ll tell you one thing for certain, I will never chug that many fudgsicles ever again.
Which should come first? A shower or coffee? Which is more important, my awareness or my general hygiene?
My first burp of the morning informs me that my hygiene requires immediate attention. Good Lord, my breath is bad. It’s a good things that I’m not married. At the state of my breath, I’m inclined to divorce myself. Come to think of it, that may be why my dog didn’t come to welcome me into the day this morning. My breath chased it away.
I stumbled my way into the bathroom, mangling my toes along the way. I didn’t bother to close the door, and immediately argued with my faucet. The darn thing never agrees with me. If I place the temperature selector on hot, place my hand on the knob and think of adjusting it to the right, it’s immediately too cold. The same works for the other way.
Man, nothing is going my way this morning.
After finally fixing the water to a temperature that was almost, but not quite, entirely unlike the temperature I wanted, I climbed inside and immediately forgot about my water complaints.
There was a dark mark on my body. It was a tattoo. I drowned in questions. Who was Laura who had drawn ink on my body, why did she say that she had loved the times we had together, and why had she inked out a potato on my butt?
. . . that was random, even for me. -BW