20 January 2011

a morning in winter

My pillow seems to have greatly expanded gravitational pull these days. Everything is heavier near my bed, including myself. The grey at my window announcing morning does little to lighten the matter and rising to face the day must break down into small, incremental phases. The cat disapproves. He feels I should be leaping up with vigour that mirrors his own. He climbs over the peaks my limbs form in the duvet and presses his face to mine, eager and clumsy. His purr is an odd noise, almost silent, internalized. Pedey head butts me and then clambers over my face to lap the water from the pint jug I keep next my bed. The water thievery is the last straw and I pick him up or just push him, meowing in protest, off the bed.

Thus the first phase of getting up is complete and I sit myself up and rub my eyes and run my hands through hair that is no longer there. The grey light is brighter, though no less grey. I check my phone and iPad and might make a move against someone in Words with Friends (a scrabble knock off I'm constantly losing). My legs and shoulders are sore. I make fists with my toes and stretch out. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed to stand up shouldn't take as much concentration as it does. I grab the cat-tainted pint of water and stand up, not taking a sip. The first few steps fall as though my legs are in braces, or should be. The cat couldn't be happier at my resurrection, believing the sole purpose of my animated state is to feed him. He races underfoot, howling, delighted to have a feeder and a playmate. I'm delighted if I can avoid tripping over the wee shite.

If I've dreamt, I'll ponder them, trying to draw details back from the recesses of my subconscious and attempt to assemble some manner of linear narrative to the abstract. I delude myself into thinking this is a good morning brain exercise, but all it tends to do is confuse me.

Coffee becomes incredibly important about now. Espressos. Or perhaps a run before coffee. The road splits, and this is where everyday is not the same.

Today I ran. It was still dark when I set out. Frost coated the roads and sidewalks and grassy embankments. The sun rose more in the south than east and the sea sat calm beneath it. I could see my breath and by the end my whole body steamed as though I'd just been removed from an oven.

I staggered home and the day started.

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