No Back Up

Yesterday I met some of my friends at the gym, three nurses who all used to work at the prison. None of us work there anymore, one is in the university ER, one at the jail with me, and one on a digestive health floor at the university hospital. The ER nurse used to be a cop, and she brought on of her cop friends along. The cop told great stories about the ER nurse from back in the day, "I always knew she'd be a nurse, we went to a scene one time, a man on a bike was hit by a car, she gets down there like she's about to do CPR and I pull her back up 'get up girl, he dead' I told her." We all laughed from our various treadmills, stairclimbers, and ellipticals. "When I get to a scene, I just say, help's coming baby," she continued, gesturing with her long, elaborately painted nails as though she was petting an imaginary dog on the head.

After warming up on the machines we went to BodyPump class, a fusion of strength training and techno music during which the participants plow through extended sets of low-weight high rep intervals. After BodyPump we all hurt all over. They went to lunch and I went out to run errands. When I got home from errands a wave of exhaustion hit me. I put my bags of food, water, even a new toaster from Target down on the ground near the kitchen. I had planned to do laundry, cook, and clean on this day off, I had just completed two 50-hour weeks working 25 hours a week at both institutions. I had plenty to do around the apartment, but that would all have to wait until I had a nap. I knew better than to nap in bed. I am not one of these people who can fall asleep and spontaneously wake up 30 minutes later bright eyed and ready to continue on with the day. If I nap in bed then I might sleep for 4 hours and then not be able to sleep again for 2 days. Even setting an alarm doesn't really work, I'll just sleepwalk and shut it off. So I learned a few years ago to nap on the floor. You are only going to sleep but for so long on the floor, usually an hour, then you pretty much have to get up. There is no alternative, you have to get up off the floor because it's uncomfortable. I usually nap on my Persian carpet. Sometimes I allow myself a pillow or a blanket, depending on how difficult I project it will be to rouse myself. When I used to work nights and convert back to daylight I would just lay down on the rug with nothing, if I woke up cold, so much the better. That meant I woke up.

So I stretched out on the floor at 1:30 and woke up a little after 3. I did not wake up feeling rested, I felt groggy and dazed as I watched the clouds through my sliding glass door. Groceries, cleaning products, new pens for work, and the toaster still in it's box blocked the way to the kitchen when I tried to get up and get a drink of water. I could not deal with it, I could not pick up one thing and put it in it's place. I knew there was nobody else coming to put the things away either. Nothing really needed to go into the fridge, nothing was going bad sitting around. I had to just let it be until I was rested enough to deal with it. I got back on on my carpet with a book and a cup of tea nearby.

After another hour of reading on the carpet I felt I could get up and at least put the groceries away and corral the laundry for the drive down to the machines in the basement. After working hard for two weeks and in an advanced state of exhaustion I could not call or wait for backup. The toaster would stay in the box until I unwrapped it. The laundry pile would continue to grow. And the next day I had to go back to work. It all didn't seem like much of a life as I separated my laundry across three machines in the building basement. Waiting for the elevator I reminded myself that I'm doing everything right. Not seeing the ill-suited guy from work, moving on to a less stressful job, and I joined the local Outdoor Social Club. I was taking beginner rock climbing, beginner kayaking, and going on hikes with the new group. I was getting out there. I was staying in shape. On my way back up in the to my floor I stopped to get my mail. I got a handwritten letter from the new owners of my apartment, they had recently purchased it from the company that managed the building. When my lease was up in May they wanted me out, and if I could leave before, so much the better. It was nice of them to give me advance notice and total freedom, but the idea of finding another place and executing another move, horrific. I decided to make sure I stayed on good terms with the manager of the local health foods store so I could have access to boxes down the line.

Once I got the laundry going started to pick up speed, putting food away, rounding up tea cups from every piece of furniture in the apartment and washing them, pulling out my long-sleeve shirts and light sweaters for fall, hanging up fleeces and sweaters on new hangers from Target. I was done by nine at night and ready to read myself to sleep again.