Every morning, Mr. Boy and I wake up minutes before his alarm goes off. This morning was no different, except that I couldn't feel my legs. Everything was just sort of numb, my hip ached and my back hurt and although I had gotten a good night's sleep, I could feel a layer of exhaustion blanketing my body.
Are you going to the gym? he asked.
I'm supposed to. I double today. But I just want to pull the covers over my head and go back to sleep.
So do that.
I can't, I told him.
He kissed me goodbye half and hour later, and my alarm went off twenty minutes after that. I stood up and stretched, feeling every joint crack. That was it. I called the gym and canceled, and dove back under the covers.
It's currently 10:37am and I'm still here. Daisy the WonderDog is with me, curled up in a tight ball of puppyness, snoring quietly. She won't ask to go out until I get up, and I have no desire to do so just yet.
Someone recently told me that they wished that I would let down my facade, as it was eventually going to crack. I was sort of shocked at the statement, because if I ever had a facade, I think it shattered a long time ago. I've written before on how I've melded my online persona and my real-life one, since when I started doing this whole blog thing, I don't think the word blog even existed. I've always been honest, sometimes even painfully, embarrassingly so. While I don't share every aspect of my life, I'm generally pretty upfront about where I am and how I'm feeling.
Which right now would be overwhelmed. We're thirty-four days away from the wedding.
There's the big details, like making a final selection on flowers and menus and figuring out seating arrangements, but there's also the small details, like finding a decent tailor for Mr. Boy's suit (anyone? In the Fairfax District Area?) and actually purchasing the rings and getting my hair cut and colored as I'm beginning to look like the stepchild of Grimace and the Bride of Frankenstein (replete with white streak), and then there's things like makeup and the right bra for my dress (braless is not an option - I even wear one to bed) and where the hell am I going to find the money for all of this?
Also, next week we're throwing a party and I'm short two oven racks. Y'know, the kind that slide right in the oven? When I moved in, there was just one. Mr. Boy doesn't know what happened to the other two, and we both assumed it would be an easy part to find. I have called restaurant supply stores who told me that I needed to call Sears (it's a Kenmore oven) and so I called Sears who couldn't help me because the model number doesn't exist, as it's a bazillion years old. My next tactic is to scour shady appliance stores in the greater Los Angeles area and hope for the best.
(Unless, of course, anyone might point me in the right direction...they don't have them at Target or Home Depot or Bed Bath & Beyond and I am not going to the city dump or having one custom made for a trillion dollars as I can buy a new stove at that point.)
Then there's just the business of being human: I have emails to respond to and phone calls to return and Easter dinner to plan and that whole what-am-I-going-to-do-for-the-rest-of-my-life? thing to figure out. I'm trying to be a good partner and person and daughter and friend and sister but I feel like I'm spinning plates and one of them is bound to crash.
And now it's 10:58am, and I'm still in bed, and all I can think is those aren't problems, most people wish they had those sorts of problems. And that's another thing I have to work on.
