When I do finally stumble back home, I collapse into my Den for an hour before I can muster the energy to do anything productive. It isn’t much to look at, white sides with a tan-and-white blanket, smaller than a coffin, but it’s inviting, drawing me in. The aesthetic isn’t important, anyway. It only matters that the pillows are better than any mattress, the wifi comes through strongly, and I can see the sky through the big sliding glass doors. It’s calming, the sharp divide between our jungle of a backyard that we never get around to fixing, that always seems peaceful in the fading dusk light, and the wild cacophony of my …show more content…
I rest my back against the wall and balance my binders and folders on my knees in my den, barely enough room to sit cross-legged. When I hit the extreme of my ability, eyes sagging, head buzzing, rambling off long strings of non sequiturs to whatever unknown entities exist out of my narrow line of sight, I let my responsibilities drop for the night, replacing them with an old stuffed animal to hold. Not even bothering to put away my notebooks, I curl up with the lights still on and the TV still humming. I’m prepared to leap up if need be, already mentally in tomorrow, and fall asleep with my senses full of