Ashley Rose the Star

I felt the alarm before I heard it this morning—the opposite of a dream suddenly rewriting itself to explain the ringing—I jolted awake, unaware for the fraction of a second before my neurons relayed to me the Classic pinball sound which my body has come to associate with dread. Sleep debt from the last couple nights of staying up past my bed time to socialize colored it more as misery that I could be grateful for. Still, I gave myself another 20 minutes of relief before starting the day.

I went about my morning routine with surprising ease that came with the practicality of knowing that there simply isn’t enough time for all I would like to do before work if I insist upon waking no earlier than 7:00. Eating leftovers out of the fridge for breakfast helped. At work, nothing unexpected happen, and someone ordered the dessert I crafted the night before: two more things to be thankful for.

As usual, I lingered before leaving, giving myself another narrow window of time between arriving and leaving home in preparation for my monthly gig at the memory care home. I decided on the toasted ochre circle skirt, thick, black ribbed blouse, and loafers—an outfit that promises the autumn which hasn’t arrived yet, with exception of crisp mornings. The temperature crept past 90 degrees as I pulled out of the driveway and peaked at 95 degrees as I stood in line at the bank’s increasingly unreliable ATM two hours later, hoping in vain to deposit the check I had just received.

Dehydrated and overheated, I decided to take myself up on the offer to go to Grocery Outlet for a kombucha after an honest day’s work. I let myself be distracted by the vitamins and skincare I usually ignore, and indulged in a heavily-considered selection of hygiene products that were needed enough, and a serum I was curious enough to try. Blessings abound: my favorite flavor of kombucha was on sale, as were some others which I did not hesitate to acquire a basket to house while I continued perusing.

Sometimes I address hedonism at its core in order to find contentment Without. Sometimes I just allow myself smaller things to want, like vegan cookie dough ice cream when it’s only 99 cents. At checkout, the cashier and I exchanged our scripted Hellos and How Are Yous. After deciding that I was “alright”, I reached for sincerity and told her I had come in partly for the needed beverage and partly to comfort myself after the continued bank mishaps. She showed more sympathy than I would have asked of a friend.

“Do you want me to leave one of these drinks outside the bag so you can drink it right away?” she asked, pointing toward the only canned kombucha.

“Well, since you already picked it out for me, why not?” How could I say no to such thoughtfulness? When my purchases hardly filled four bags, she asked if I needed a cart, which I declined. Still, she stepped outside to grab one for me.

Been up since midnight. Usually I don't wake until 2 or 3. This is probably why I clung so stubbornly to the hope I would fall back asleep for so long before accepting these waking hours for what they are.

Some nights, I believe it's fated, a message from my deepest self to do something I don't during the day. Sometimes I think it's just a fluke of physiology I don't comprehend.