I’m having one of those days in which it gives me grim, wallowing satisfaction to gripe about my first world problems. Yesterday was a mixed bag of a day, beginning with a dentist visit and ending with a broken iPod screen. When I got home in the evening I found no one had emailed me for five hours, which is so unusual it made me feel eerie.
I collapsed into bed exhausted, but rest was not forthcoming; dream after dream brought bad thoughts or happy scenarios gone wrong. It was one of those nights where my sleeping mind hops from one dream to the next in quick succession (or so it feels):
- I was on a plane that went down in an isolated area, and since no one would contact the airline or our families, I suspected some kind of plot. I tried to use my own cell phone to text my loved ones, but of course there was no signal.
- Friends threw a surprise dinner party, but miscommunication resulted in my favorite guests not getting seats — and they were the ones who’d RSVP-ed earliest, and gone through the most trouble to get there.
- Erik and I had to learn how to prepare turtles and frogs for food, by cutting out their sex organs and then tossing them into boiling soup (all while they were still alive). I wanted to refuse, but he said I would offend his mom if I didn’t.
- I was terribly hungry, but all I had to eat was a small bowl of rice with paint (I recognized cadmium yellow, among other colors); it wouldn’t hurt me, but I knew it would taste like grit and chalk and the smell of paint; I tried to scrape out as much clean rice as I could from under the mound of globs.
Not nice, eh? When I got up today I was tempted to just give up and spend the day reading self-indulgent novels (L.M. Montgomery, Agatha Christie) or playing computer games. But tea (with honey) and hot cereal and morning pages convinced me I would benefit more from a structured day of work and some strategic cooking, cleaning, and exercise. So that’s the game plan.