Day starts on my back, digging up from the rabbit hole of slumber, huddled into down and high thread count. Into new light, an awakening of bones and spirit. Body pulls itself in opposite directions, feeling for strains. Breathe deep, six counts in and six counts out. Focus on the day ahead and where my head will sit in it. Sadie knocks from the outside side of the bedroom window, pulling natural claws into a screen that pops back into its frame with a soft clunk. I don’t want to go to school. Just five more minutes. Is the back tight or tighter? Daily dose of two aspirin will soothe that out. Hips feel open. Carry a good deal of stress and anxiety in our backs and hips, women especially. Six counts in, six counts out. Can I make 9 a.m. kick boxing or stick to a solo hour on the incline treadmill? Little scared of sweaty pounding with a self-diagnosed runners toe. Fungus sounds gross, runner toe strong. Bought a new OPI shade, something in a gray, that will cover the muted purple nail bed nicely. Want to go for a wax, quick check says it’s time. $55 for a clean work area. Maybe just go old school, power to the muff. Old fling texted. Really haven’t the desire or need, his 32 years, stomach and wavy Kennedyesque hair aside. I like the perfect spoon and arm across my hip the next morning more. Ladies days approaching, if tender nipples have anything to say about it. Dentist tomorrow, one last day to chew ice on the right side. One old friends birthday Thursday, one old friends test results, for the one breast. I love that girl.
And all this before coffee.