You Must Thank Fate, Yourself, And the Gods

I'm currently fighting the urge to fall asleep. Bed feels natural right now. I can almost feel them wrapping around me, the covers. I spent a long time tonight cleaning the kitchen. I rubbed the sink clean and scoured the stovetop for difficult spots. Some of the stains just wouldn't come out, even when I took my fingernails to them and grated for a bit. I could not figure how to put the stove grates back on correctly. No combination fits. Each removable metal piece has a small protrusion. The stove does not have a matching indention in its porcelain. A little wired, I decided to drink a lot of Nyquil.

Really one of the great things about waking up, or sleeping for that matter, is a nightmare. During the actual experience it is not pleasant. But the sensation of realizing, wait, this is not real, I am waking up. I'm not even in school right now. There is no final to study for. Everything is ok. I can relax. Fuck homework. I'm comfortable here. 

This morning I got a piece of that. Oh, it was wonderful. I came to a bit, realized it had been a horrible dream. The sun slanted through the window in the unique pattern of early morning. I checked the time, ten o' clock. Nice and early. I set my alarm for 11:17 and lay back down, moving against the covers, loving it. You have to appreciate these things. I even made a mental note at that time. I was damn lucky. Lucky my ass did not itch or I was involved in any sort of romantic relationship. Thankful for being there. Thankful for my bed and the fact that my car will start and for not having a stuffed up nose, breathing clean pure air, available so easily for me. 

Everyday you must thank fate and yourself and your clothes and the gods.

THANK YOU, LADIES AND GENTLEMAN