It’s been a difficult week or so of nightmares, which has played a part in a nasty bout of insomnia. The lack of sleep has certainly not helped my body, which is still fighting infections. i’ve managed to keep up with the chores, cooking, and errands over these many weeks of being ill. Homework has been turned in late, but the scores are high.
Then, i dropped the ball for a few days. When Sir Raven came home Tuesday and found me still in my pajamas, the house a mess, she stopped in the middle of the living room in disbelief. “What is going on in my house, girl?” i opened my mouth to speak, wisely shut it, and was promptly dressing to head out in the cold for her wine. Since we had been sent home with about a week of food from a gathering of the crew, i had not cooked. That was mistake two. Sir Raven was clearly put out, though she allowed me to fix breakfast for dinner and clean up before going back to bed to rest.
Yesterday was spent doing All The Things. i’m so sensitive at the slightest sign of disapproval from her that i tend to go overboard to attempt to please. i’ve been this way my whole life. Fortunately, i have pain pills and took the actual recommended dose to get through the day. i got the entire house dusted, which takes considerable time, owing to the amount of books and things we have. For a small apartment, we live like artists-painted wine bottles, painted canvas, tiny Buddha statues, house plants, baskets of supplies, boxes with little treasures spill out of everywhere. My own contributions to the stuff is largely throw blankets, teddy bears, and some of the art and love tokens i have quietly placed on her stool in offering over the years. All of it has to be dusted, furniture slid around to sweep and mop underneath, walls washed. The bed needed clean sheets, the laundry needed sorting, the errands needing doing. i fixed slow cooked ribs, black beans, and jasmine rice for dinner. By the time she came home, i was showered and had pulled my hair up in a simple pony tail because she likes it. i had asked Sir Raven about trying some different eyeliner while it was on sale, which i was nervous about because i had stuck to an old school pencil my whole life. i was a bit surprised that she liked the updated look immediately, having carefully scrutinized it the day before.
When she handed me her coat, she made a satisfied sound at the clean house, scrubbed and made pretty slave, dinner smells coming from the kitchen and mingling with the vanilla sandlewood candles. i apologized for letting things get out of control and she gently kissed me, in absolution. We had a nice evening, got the rest of the details for two M/s conferences hammered out, tickets ordered. i was exhausted by the time i had her lunch fixed, kitchen recleaned, and french press set up. i asked to get changed into my pjs, asked about going out to do the laundry today, and explained that i would likely have to spend much of today trying to get caught up with papers past-due. Sir Raven warned me to get back to taking a daily nap again, which i’ve been neglecting for the most part, unable to sleep for the pain or not figuring out how to fit it in. That shouldn’t be a problem, since i could not sleep-again-last night. i got maybe four hours before it was time to get up and spend a couple of hours with her before she had to go to wok.
There isn’t any rule or real expectation that i get up with her in the morning, but most days i make it up to see her off. It’s the last chance i have to see to her comfort before she is out in the world, and it matters to me. Recently, she admitted that she appreciates my efforts even if i’m just sitting with her before her day. She rarely wants breakfast and likes to touch up her own shirts, so it’s not as if i have much to do besides maybe pour the coffee and bring her iced water. This morning, she brought me a cup of hot french press, which was really sweet.
i’m exhausted and wish the construction banging would cease. i can neither focus on my work or nap with all of the banging, even with the window shut and music on. It’s overstimulating. i woke myself up by yelling out in my sleep last night, though writing out the nightmare seems to have helped a lot. i really need to be held tight at night and try to remember what that feels like but it’s lost to the void, like me, in a tangle of astral projection and remembrance.