I Spent the Day Asleep
“… a minor but perilous triumph of being over nothingness.”
This being the last line of Joan Didion’s essay on Michael Laski and the C.P.U.S.A. (M.-L.), summing up the latter’s world.
As for me, I spent the day asleep.
I woke up late, had a smoothie around 1pm, put the bedding in for a wash, and then passed out on the couch.
Bob Ross talked me to sleep while blending clouds and mountains into a blue-brushed canvas.
Maybe I’ll take up painting.
The grocery shopping was done online. Since I have no car now, every trip is a walk.
Browsing the aisles can only conclude one of two ways: in a cab back home or a trudge on foot.
So do I spend the extra money or try to carry it all home?
Ultimately, it’s cheaper to ask someone to bring it to me. I think. I don’t know.
But I’m not looking forward to the possible disapproval I’ll get for not leaving the house.
And here begin the thoughts of self-doubt, of self deprecation.
Why couldn’t you just — ?
No. Stop. Close your eyes. Fade out.
I wake up hours later in a haze, but with most of the painful angst gone.
Still, I look around at the tiny flat in which I sit…
Another day gone. Some things done. I’m still here.
But it feels like a triumph over nothing.