“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28
I'm turning into one of those crazed women who doesn't leave her house except for cat food and brewers yeast. I haven't washed my hair since the day before Christmas Eve. It's gone through a varied way of being taking on a life of its own resembling oil slick to sexy bed head. I'm trying to adopt each character it evokes. Presently, it's just sticking to the side of my head in hopes that today will be the day I turn the faucet handle and brave the over zealous boiler's scalding water. I'm lying limp with it.
It's late December and I've slept with my window open for the last few nights just to offset the steam rising from the basement floor. It's okay. The privileged party has gone home for Christmas Vacation and NYU haunts sit empty by the early hour of midnight. I am relishing the somewhat quiet streets of East Village. But the camaraderie amongst the charcoal vodka guzzling crew is alive and well and has seemed to multiply this festive season. I step over them often on my way to scour the shelves of the corner bodega and occasionally return the muffled Feliz Navidad they spit in my direction. I can tell by their bloodshot eyes, they recognize my familiar grey sweatpants. This makes me feel kindred in some fashion then painfully different at the same time.
At least they are socializing.
I let that pang of guilt pass me by and give my friendliest hello to my Middle Eastern counter man. He's come to look forward to our jovial two minute visits. No yeast so I buy a Virgin Mary candle instead and don't feel judged by my purchase. He's screaming at the bloody nosed chess player who has run for cover from his feisty opponent in the park and has interrupted our fellowship. Thinking I should have bought shampoo, I light the wick, take my natural Valerian Root sedative, breathe deeply in between the commonplace siren's pulses, and mediate on my near future and present condition.
I call this behavior, resting.
What's your diagnosis?
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