The life of recovery.

30 Jan

It’s been so long since last I pulled out a book.  I didn’t even finish the last series, despite adoring it.  I will have to restart it another time.  Hm, what’s this on my Kindle?  I’ve not read this before.  Perhaps if I read it, I’ll have inspiring dreams that aren’t about the crap I do all day.

I pressed the selection button and sought out book one in the series.  Ah, there it was.  I set my cell phone down.  My app games could wait until tomorrow.  That familiar warm tingle filled my mind  I bit my lip and shifted my breasts out of the way so I could try reading on my side in my warm bed.  My heated blanket soon heated my cold toes nicely, and I burrowed underneath it while struggling to keep my eyes open and my Kindle visible.  Thus, I entered a world where an old man was trying to write the history of the world and reflecting on his life.

Despite my growing interest, my eyes continued to close uselessly.  I pinched my earlobe and tugged at it to try to rouse myself, but eventually gave in to the dark, warm embrace of sleep.

It felt like only seconds before I began to wake, dreams of a video game lingering as I forced myself to stay in bed. “Dream!” I ordered myself internally, and dream I did, although none of the dreams were of use.  As I opened my eyes to look at the puppy that stared at me, my dream was pulled away by my unconscious mind, to blend in and become forgotten rapidly.

I forced the animal into my arms and buried my face in his fur in irritation.  I decided I should get out of the house somehow.  That led to needing a bike lock.  Would I have enough money?  Where in town could I get one on short notice?  I pondered as I slipped from bed and put on my slippers.

It was almost ten in the morning.  I doubted any place would be closed.

I should shower first.

I gathered up a clean shirt, bra, and some red underwear, then yesterday’s pants.  My jacket and other pants were all in the wash, so I would have to wear my slightly smelly Navy sweater.  Maybe some perfume would cover the smell, if I went to the library.  As I undressed and groomed my lady parts, I pondered just where I should go.

If I went to the library, I would get internet, but I had no idea if they had a bike rack or if their internet was filtered.  If I went to the cafe, I would have to buy coffee or hot cocoa now and then, and I didn’t want to look like some hipster, with my retro brown bike, my laptop, huge headphones, and an open word document.  Perhaps I could just go to McDonald’s?  It had a certain appeal, but I was uncertain about both internet, and my ability to stay there for hours on end, writing articles about whatever hopped to mind.

As I entered the shower, I decided I’d call somewhere and see what there was to be done at each place, then decide.  They were all in distance, but I still wanted a bike lock because I liked my bike too much to lose it.  Maybe I could ask my brother for a ride, instead?  No, he would be asleep until well after noon.  I couldn’t ask Mom either; she was at work.

Another cost came up.  My library card was expired.  I had mom’s, but I wasn’t sure if it was expired, just in case I wanted to grab some books to take home, if I did go to the library.  I stopped thinking on it long enough to wash my hair and body.  My hair was so oily!  I really needed to bathe more often, but there just wasn’t enough time in the day, what with my busy life doing raids and scenarios while roleplaying and chatting with friends.

Snot clung to my throat as I washed my hair a second time.  I tried to cough it up, and almost vomited.  I swallowed some shower water and shook my head. “Bloody hell.” I muttered, then pondered why I didn’t use modern, American slang like everyone else in the family.  Maybe it was just because I read so often, and picked up my slang from there growing up.  Maybe, I just internally knew my brain would melt from stupidity if I ever uttered the words ‘YOLO’ or ‘swag’.

I shrugged it off and turned off the cooling water.  My towel was on the other side of the bathroom, hanging cockily off its bar.  I forgot to hang it over the curtain for easy, warm use.  I took a deep breath and braced myself for the winter air, then dashed nude from the shower to grab my towel.  The floor was icy!  I was shivering by the time I returned to the somewhat less warm air of the shower, and quickly dried my hair and body before I left the now lukewarm sanctuary.

I yanked on the red panties and my fuzzy yoga pants, then pulled on my sports bra.  For a moment, I pondered wearing a real bra, but quickly nixed that idea.  Real bras were too hard to put on when I was still damp from the shower, even if they did give pretty good support.  I cupped my now-restrained breasts.  They went from lovely, perky sacks to silly putty that was molded into a ball and allowed to sit until it took on a squished dome shape.  These bras were hardcore jiggle-preventers.  After admiring my breasts for a few moments, where I also popped a few tiny zits and cleaned out some missed blackheads, I pulled on my brightly-colored tie-dye shirt that my grandma made for me.

I was almost ready to go, save that my puppy needed to go outside.  I picked up the fuzzy little monster and carried him outside, then set him down gently on the wet pavement.  I wished there was a less cold place for him to take care of himself, but this was it, and I’d make certain he wasn’t out long.  Once he was finished, I picked him up and carried him in, then made sure he had food and water.

It was time to go, and I grabbed my laptop, Mio, water bottle, and bike basket, and rode off.

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Posted by on January 30, 2013 in Modern Fiction


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