literature

Neurotic Rituals

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I wake up in the morning and sketch. The bed is quite warm and comfortable. I could really stay here and just lie about. The alarm goes off. Great. Super.

I get out of bed and take my time moving into the sunny kitchen, the loose legs of my flannel pajama pants rustling silently as I walk. I click on the switch for the coffee pot and press my face near the window, looking into a perfectly sunny day, clear skies. Blue. How nice.

I take a glance to see the progress of my morning coffee. I can't start the day without my coffee. Not because I need to drink the coffee to start my day, a caffeine high coursing through my veins like lead on speed. oh, no. I never drink the coffee. I just get such a kick out of watching the dark, muddy water steam as I pour it down the drain. Hey, everyone needs a routine, and this is part of mine. My delectable morning ritual.

The coffee alerts to that it finishes brewing with a short series of three sharp tones. I smile. Now, in a moment, I can blissfully watch it go down the drain. I look at the clock on the coffee maker. The number flicks to the next one and I grin broadly. 8:03 sharp. I take a deep breath of happiness, push open the kitchen window--and scream terribly at the top of my lungs as my neighbor leaves his house juggling his work things, his coffee, and his car keys. I let out a shriek of delight as he startles, momentarily fumbling all objects to his chest, and a large coffee stain spreads like wildfire over his white dress shirt. He lets out a stream of loud expletives and tries to pull the shirt away from his skin. It must burn.

He turns angrily towards my window and begins to scream something and start gesturing. I've been doing this every morning for three years. He really should be used to it by now. After all, it's part of my morning routine. I smile warmly back at the raving man next door and move back into my kitchen. Now it's my favorite part of the morning! I pick up the handle of the coffee pot and watch with awe as the dark brown liquid circles the drain. Some days I just try to pour it in without splashing. Some days I run the sink with cold water and see if I can make a little rainstorm. Of course it never works, but it never hurts trying.

My appetite for chaos and structure now sated, I go on to my next ritual: using the bathroom and brushing my teeth. I debate brushing my hair, but I like the way it looks when it's bedraggled. Brushing your hair at the start of each day is so conventional. I don't need to be conventional, I'm a go-getter. I decide to implement this idea, illustrating it by going to the kitchen and getting something to eat. I'm not sure why I have to brush my teeth before I eat, but I just know it needs to be done. I pause for a moment outside of the refrigerator to shake my head from side to side. I like the way my short hair feels when it hits against my face. I feel good today! I pour some juice and make some toast. I smile broadly with fondness at the memory of the neighbor floundering on his walk today as I sit at the table, bringing a leg underneath my body.

I eat pleasantly while I watch the television set. I don't need to turn the TV on to know I'm watching the news. If I watch the real news, it'll just be depressing, and that will ruin my good mood and all the good I have done today. So I eat my toast merrily, nodding or laughing with the fun, uplifting news I create for myself in my head as I watch the picture-less, black screen.

I love my morning routine.

I put the empty plate in the sink, pause as I am leaving the kitchen, then return and wash the dishes. I can't leave dirty dishes in the sink! This reminds me the toaster is likely dirty with crumbs now that I've made toast. And if that is dirty, surely the counters are dirty. I spend the next hour cleaning; first the kitchen, then the living room. Now that I am done, I figure it's almost time for lunch. If I'm going to eat, I should probably relieve myself firs. This is how I think. So I take care of business and find myself frowning between cabinets and refrigerator. My good mood is beginning to dissolve.

How can one choose just what to eat for a good lunch?

Sometime later I am eating chicken. I don't quite remember making chicken, or having on decided on that and the sides I have with it, but I shrug it off, glad to be eating something delicious. The clock reads 11:44. Is it that late already? I eat slowly, albeit with a little confusion, and savor the taste. I decide to take my medicine, but from the location of the bottle when I finally find it, it seems like I've already taken my medicine. I shrug.

With the food eaten, I clean the dishes. I realize how messy everything must be. I clean the kitchen. Just a light cleaning; I think I cleaned it yesterday. But I don't think I cleaned the bathroom.

I clean the bathroom.

I find myself sitting with a leg underneath me at the table, reading through the paper. I can't say what exactly I've read or haven't and I frown. I don't like the ink that gets on my hands from the newspaper.

I decide to try yoga.

I realize I don't like yoga. Why do they keep trying to make me be on my head? Every time my head is at a lower elevation to my body, I can feel pressure. I don't like pressure. I picture the blood rushing me and I feel an urgent sense of panic. I don't like yoga. So I stop. I frown. Did I remember to take my pills this morning? I check my pill bottle.

I look at the clock from my desk. It reads 1:47pm. Oh, is it that time already? I can't say how long I've been working. I also don't quite remember getting dressed, but I'm wearing something comfortable today, so I shrug. I sway my head lightly from side to side. I like the way my hair tilts when it's brushed. It's good to start the day with brushed hair.

I frown at something on the computer screen, but I suddenly can't remember what. I think I was doing research for something, or writing an article for something.. But whatever it is, it can't be that fascinating. I don't think I have anything due til Friday, so maybe I'll get back to this later. My editor is very understanding. I get up and look for my pills. Did I take them today?

Is is 3:15pm. I am very excited. I move quickly to the living room window and peer through shades that no one can see through from the other side. I like these ones. They let in light without having to open the window, but you can only see through them from very close up. The mailman delivers the mail into the slot near the door and I wait until he leaves.

It is 4:02pm. I am sorting through mail. Did the mailman come today or is this old mail? I think it's new because I think it is Tuesday, and the ads come on Tuesday. There are a couple catalogs, but no ads. I look at the calendar. Monday. Huh. oh well. I shrug and throw away anything that isn't a bill.

It is 4:59pm. I take a break from my article and stretch. I'm a journalist and my editor has been nice enough to let me work at home for a while. Something about medical relvancy and as long as my work is good.. 5:00pm. I'm excited. It's time for my late-afternoon routine. I pre-make the coffee pot for tomorrow morning. I take my time. As I finish, I look at the time. It is 5:25pm. I push my window open above the counter. I guess I didn't open it this morning. I grin.

My neighbor seems to be home from work! He makes his way up the driveway. He appears to be juggling a work briefcase and a thermos. Today he has something new! He seems to be holding backs of takeout and drinks, balanced precariously against his chest as he leans back. He is moving quickly and fumbling for his keys. I wait for him to pass, hitting that sweet-spot in the walk and I hoot and screech erratically like a holler monkey. I am blissfully aware of spilling drinks and tumbling objects. It feels soothing to me, this chaos. He struggles to pick things up quickly and not loose all of the food and drinks and begins screaming something at me and gesturing as he tries to hurry. Click. 5:29pm. I smile as the sprinklers kick on before he can finish gathering his things, giving out a gentle burst of water that sprays directly into the neighbor's chest. He lets out a loud burst of expletives and I smile widely and giggle like a school girl. The front door opens on his house and his wife comes out quickly to help him. She's not as much fun. I decide to submerge back into my house. I blink. I can't remember if I cleaned the kitchen.

There's a sharp pounding on the door. 5:36pm. I frown. Now who could be doing that at this hour? I don't expect any guests. I answer it apprehensively, feeling anxious and not removing the chain from the door.

I see the neighbor's wife, wearing a scowl and appearing to be wet. Did she have an accident in the kitchen? Maybe she walked through the sprinklers? I blink. She says some angry things in a stern voice. I feel confused. I tell her I'm in the middle of cleaning right now, so I'm not sure why she's bothering me. This seems to infuriate her and I shut and bolt the door before she breaks through my chain latch. She hits the door a few times and yells something. I weakly tell her I'm a quiet neighbor and if she continues to be scary and make threats and noise, I'll have to call the police. I want to go back to cleaning.

It is 6:06. I think the kitchen is clean enough. Someone knocks at the door. Huh. I'm not expecting any neighbors. I answer it and see a couple of police officers. I'm immediately alarmed. Has someone been robbed? Was there a mugging or a murder? I thought this was a safe street. They tell me about a neighbor's complaints and I'm confused. I don't really even know my neighbors, I tell them. We pretty much keep to themselves. And I've been cleaning all day and am just about to start cooking, so I haven't even left the house. How can I bother anyone? The police exchange a glance and say something about thanking me for my time maybe, I can't be sure. I am thinking about dinner. How about chicken, I say to myself. I think I thawed some chicken..

I don't remember the police leaving, but I could swear I had thawed some chicken. Oh, or did I eat that last night? I shrug. I suddenly wonder if I took my pills today. I check my bottle.

It's 7:34pm. I usually have dinner around this time, unless I work late. I'm a journalist and I work at home. My editor is very understanding. I sit down to eat. Huh, when did I make chicken? Wasn't I out of chicken? My head hurts a little and I feel confused, but I sit down to eat dinner and watch television. I like the shows that come on Wednesday nights. I can't seem to find any. I look at the calendar. Monday. Huh. I find a rerun of something eventually, but by then I have finished eating and it is time to do the dishes.

It is 10:49pm and I stretch my aching back muscles and rub my face. I need a shower. I just finished my article and forwarded it to my editor. I can't even remember what it was about. I hear I am very well researched. I like research. I take my night-time medications. I'm not sure why I have so many, but the doctor said it would help...though I can't remember with what. I must have a condition. I should research the names of the prescriptions on the bottles. I could use a snack.

I have some toast and look around my kitchen. It's surprisingly clean considering I last cleaned a few days ago. I bet the bathroom isn't, though. I eat some toast and clean up before cleaning the bathroom.

I bathe for a long time. The water feels good on me. My head doesn't feel so foggy when it rains. Oh, silly me, I meant when the shower water falls on it. Rains. I smile. My head really is something these days.

I doze a little in a chair with a book on my chest. When I rouse, I don't remember what I've read. I'll just start over. I'm not even halfway yet. I decide to start over tomorrow and just put the bookmark where it's at. I rub my eyes and wonder if I took my night pills yet.

I take a special medicine that helps me sleep. I don't know what time it is. The birds begin it sing at 5am, but they haven't started yet, so it must be early. I fall asleep after I'm not sure how much time passes. I wake in the morning, but I am still sleepy, so I doze a while. I have strange dreams that I don't quite remember when I wake.

-

When I wake up in the morning, the bed is extremely warm and comfortable. I just want to lay there. I don't remember setting the alarm, but it goes off. Great.

I get out of bed and stretch, going into the kitchen. It's really sunny today. I don't like it. At least I have nifty shades that obscure the outside. I take my morning medication and have some juice. I decide to make some toast and I check the coffee pot. I don't always like to have coffee, but sometimes I do. I decide against it as I look up and see the neighbor emerging from his house, juggling briefcase, coffee, newspaper and keys. I push the window open and call out a morning greeting. He gives me a dirty look and moves to his car. I frown. I may not get out much, but it wouldn't hurt the people in this neighborhood to be friendly.

I watch the news from the table as I eat my breakfast and drink my juice. I flip through a newspaper causally and frown. I hate the way ink gets all over your hands, but there's something great about newspapers. I clean up my breakfast mess and get cleaned up for the day. I figure I may as well have breakfast before I clean up. Brushing your teeth first would defeat the purpose.

When I finish, I do some light stretches and simple yoga. I wanted to try it lately, but I avoid anything that elevates my body above my head. It makes me nauseous. I check the time and it's around 10am, so I quickly make up a grocery list and take my mid-morning prescription. I have a lot of medication that I have to take, but the doctors assure me that it'll help me get well enough to rejoin society and go back to work. I'm a journalist for a magazine, but for now I work and submit my articles from home. My editor is very supportive and understanding.

I pop an anti-anxiety pill and leave the house, taking care to lock it. I run a few errands and get food at the store. I don't like to drive anymore, being on so many medications, but it's too far to walk, so I only drive on errand and grocery days. When I return home, I see the neighbor's wife coming home. I offer her a smile and wave, but she gives me a dirty look and storms into her house. My hand falters and I lower it. I really don't understand them at all. what a weird couple.

I put away my groceries and try to roughly plan a few meals. I set some pork chops in the fridge for dinner and set some chicken to thaw. I vaguely recall eating chicken yesterday, but the days are honestly a blur lately. I can't really remember them.

I check my email and my editor says she liked me newest article, but asks for a few changes. I take care of it and await my next assignment. I do a light cleaning on the house and read a little from a book I started before taking care of dinner and settling in for some TV. I should really get a cat. Have some companionship. I make sure to take my night pills. Timing is very crucial with my medication, so I end up looking at the clock a lot during the day. Sometimes I find my pill bottles in strange places, but I can't help but laugh at my scattered-ness.

By the time I go to bed, I feel a little lonely, but it's fine. We all have good and bad days. As I fall asleep that night, aided by a prescription and some anti-anxieties, I think I should call or write to one of my friends tomorrow if I don't get a new assignment yet. The doctor said I should try to get back into the swing of things. I think that as I fall asleep.

-


I wake up in the morning and stretch, the bed is warm and comfortable, and I'm grinning like a madman. I lay there until the alarm goes off, but I'm excited about today's new round of yells I have planned for the neighbor. I can't wait to scare the shit out of him.
Written for my own amusement to quiet and focus my mind.
© 2014 - 2024 seiko
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