Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
The clock, like all time, moves forward as I lay in bed under the covers impervious to what the day will bring. Impervious or Apathetic. One or the other.
My body, feet, brain, and heart ache from 14 months of non-stop meetings, development, and pre-production.
And today I'm tired.
Today all I want to do is lie here under the covers and let the next few hours pass as I attempt to recharge my body.
But then I remember how fat I've gotten and decide that a trip to the gym might not be such a bad idea.
I raise from the crypt and squint when I see how high the sun has risen in the sky. I know it's late morning because I can hear the television blasting from the other room.
I wait for a moment before planting both feet on the floor. While the feet are still in bed, the day hasn't officially started. There is no guilt.
Once they touch the floor it's a whole different story.
I saunter towards the bathroom and check myself out in the mirror. Despite the rotundness of my face, I don't look so bad...for a spinster.
Actually, I wish I could sew; or at the very least darn. There are so many holes in the ass of my pants from the recent weight gain that the ability to let out seams would come in very handy right about now.
If it wasn't for an accidental glance in a store window the other day, I would have had no idea that one of the rips extended across both ass cheeks. Instead of walking with my head held high like the contributing member of society that I am -- I was par with the crack whores.
The crack whore spinster.
The TIRED crack whore spinster.
Labels are funny.
I head towards the living room and pray that Consuela has had the good sense to make a pot of coffee -- because at this moment, that is all I have the energy for -- reaching for that first cup.
"What the hell are you doing?" I say with a raspy voice.
Great, my voice is now gone.
Consuela sits in the middle of the floor, plopped in front of the TV, surrounded by dozens of newspapers. A mad sparkle glints from both eyes as she stares intently at the screen.
"I iz Extreme Cooponin', Mia!" she squeals.
I sigh.
"There better be some coffee in the --" I say as I turn the corner to the kitchen and see almost a full pot.
After filling my cup I turn back to the living room and plop down on the sofa behind her. A moment later we are both completely immersed in back to back episodes of "Extreme Couponing".
"Consuela," I say after returning with my second cup of coffee.
"Si," she says without looking at me.
"You didn't steal these papers from our neighbors, did you?" I ask.
She snaps her head around synonymous with demon possession and says through very angry eyes and flared nostrils, "Yer iz no to judguh me, Mia! Yer iz da one who iz saying dat yer iz to giver to Consuela a Taco Stand, but why iz dere no Taco Stand? Why Mia? Yer is da promised and so now I iz loving da extreme couponin' and yer iz to say dat to me!"
I wait a moment and lock myself into a dead stare with her stupidity.
"You didn't answer my question," I say as I take a sip of coffee.
She stands in a huff, "Dat woman in da Georgia iz to der da same sing, and yer iz to not want Consuela to evers be happy! EverS!!!" she screams before stomping out of the room.
I stare at the floor covered by papers before reaching down to pick up a section with my horoscope. I check to see if it says anything about being agitated by rampant disarray and stupidity, but it doesn't.
It does, however, tell me that the fabric I am weaving will come together shortly. So, at least there is that.
And so, I lay back on the couch, too tired to reach for the converter to change the channel. Hoping that after this episode of "Extreme Couponing", there'll be some sort of show about someone with too many children.
Those are always good. Not in the 'compelling story' type of way, but in the 'everything is alright' type of way. And besides, they're great to fall asleep to, I think to myself as my lids become heavy with the fatigue of a lifetime of hopes and dreams.
