Time to enjoy the fruits of my labor.
Ever since I got back from New York I’ve been working through a bacterial infection that has left me (a) hocking up enough yellow-green mucus in the mornings to stucco a building, and (b) uncomfortably coughing after about 8 p.m. (But I can tell I’m almost done with it!)
So every night this week, convinced that the blast from the A/C vent directly onto my face wasn’t helping things, I’ve been sleeping in the “9” position — head at the foot of the bed, wrapped in a blanket — until the sun comes up around 5:30 a.m. and the glare forces me to flop back to the “6” spot. (The house has cooled down enough then that the A/C isn’t back on, anyway.) Usually I sleep for another hour or two, but today I reopened my eyes at 11:50 a.m., which meant I was already behind.
I’ve been trying to accomplish something every day of my PTO — everything from recipes to appointments — so it feels like I’ve used it, and not just had it. Tomorrow I catch a flight to spend the better part of a week back home, so I had to pack in a lot of productivity early; I sense that my days in Laurel will be spent engaged in Socratic dialogues about the importance of getting out of the house and/or not hoarding things “you’re going to get around to, eventually.”
So, before I start packing, a toast: One part tequila, one part prickly pear syrup, two parts margarita mix. Shake, then pour over ice into a glass rimmed with salt and sugar. Repeat until dread is replaced by acceptance and optimism.
|WHAT SAM WORE: 7-16-11|
|The shirt: “Buddha Rocks!” T-shirt from Urban Outfitters, Tempe.|
|The shorts: Corduroy cutoffs from Lucky Brand, Chandler Fashion Center.|
|The shoes: Customized slip-ons by Converse, a gift from Funny Michael.|