This Morning

Even though I've been griping about my apartment as of late, I really do love it. What I especially love are the sliding doors, I often have one or both doors cracked to allow fresh air in. I didn't know how much I enjoy sleeping with a cool breeze until this month. Not moving air, not a fan, but a cool steady wind. At home in Salt Lake, my room is in the basement, and if I open the itty-bitty window I'll likely die from some Brown Recluse spider bite or something equally as dreadful. Until now, I've only slept with a breeze while camping, so I love that my bed is near the doors so I can cuddle under a blanket while the wind blows over me.

Lately I've been waking up around 6am, I know right? And while I lie in bed I just listen. I'm off the main street enough to hear other sounds besides traffic. Sometimes I hear people clopping up and down the stairs in my apartment building. Sometimes I hear the hard-of-hearing older couple who live within earshot of my window trying to communication over a seemingly large expanse. Always I hear the rooster that has become a sound of comfort rather than the nuisance he once was -- it's like living near train tracks, at first you can't stand the shaking and rumbling, and then you find you can't sleep without it. This morning I heard a neighbor washing clothes in a basin with what sounded like a washing board, whistling the occasional out-of-pitch melody. I laid in bed slowly becoming aware of my body and surroundings. It was a great way to wake up.

Mornings like today makes me think of the nature of my day and life. The moments of serenity and anxiety I experience daily. The people I think and care about. Mornings like today ensure my continual struggle to understand and to be understood are worthwhile endeavors, and that some moments, like today, make the challenge of living an unremarkable life, well, remarkable.

In high school I had an English teacher who instilled a love of lists in me -- making them, reading them, crossing them off, basically, everything to do with them. In honor of Mrs. Bean, my quirky and lovable 10th grade English teacher, I am inspired to make such a list (or two.)


Moments of serenity in my day:

waking up feeling rested
stepping on the heated floor of my bedroom for a middle-of-the-night pee
drinking milk directly from the container
laughing aloud while I'm alone because the book I'm reading is that funny
washing my dishes while listening to Michael Jackson
the fresh minty taste in my mouth after I brush my teeth
seeing my 'morning hair' every morning
the clucking of nearby hens attempting to seduce my unknown rooster friend
separating my trash into the different recycling bins
walking up the stairs to my apartment after work
unlocking the door to my apartment
paying bills
an 'inbox' with messages waiting for me to read
catching a program in English on t.v.
waking free of back pain
wool socks on a bitter cold day


Moments of anxiety in my day:

waking up tired and unrested
stepping on a water soaked bathroom floor from my shower the night before
remembering that I've forgotten to take my anti-depressant
touching public surfaces
having to wear slippers at work when my feet are cold
plucking my eyebrows
not having the option to bathe instead of shower
thinking of debt
an empty 'inbox'
naughty students and being forced to conjure some sort of disciplinary action
seeing a double-chin in my reflexion
not knowing how to read my boss
waking with a kink in my neck because my mattress and pillows are rubbish