"What?" I asked when Adam looked at me, appearing to be puzzled.
"Your hair is different," he replied, narrowing his eyes into a squint.
"I washed it at 3 this morning then went back to bed," I told him. "This is how it looks when it dries naturally." I tried to smooth the waves that I'd left alone to tickle my back left bare by the dress I'd chosen.
As of late, I've not been unwell. I like those statements - I say a lot 'I don't disagree' or 'I'm not unhappy.' Chienne is fine - she's adjusting reasonably well and still greets me with excessive joy when I return from my forays into the outside world. We eat and sleep and take walks in weather turned deliciously cool.
I sleep best in the early hours, knowing that when I climbed into bed to dampen pillows with wet hair that I would be the opposite of an eager beaver or early bird this Monday morning. So I sighed upon opening my eyes, taking a moment to admire the sheer drape fluttering in the open door before closing them again.
I rested as dawn nudged along the edge of my consciousness, vaguely aware of the brightening light and chirping of birds as the morning grew later. But I closed my eyes tighter, burrowing deeper into my comforter and feeling my lips curve when Chienne cuddled closer - her back to mine. "We're still sleepy, huh, pretty?" I murmured and drifted into dreams again.
And in these dreams - the ones this morning - I was beautiful and capable and patient and kind. I had crushes on me capable of loving me and did projects with stunning talent and ambitious time lines. Chloe could see and pranced around the edges of her yard, barking happily at the neighborhood dogs and wagging her tail so hard that it made a loud thwapping sounds upon striking the wooden fence. There were flowers in gentle pastels and just enough clouds filtering the sunlight.
I sighed again, arching into a stretch atop my flannel sheets, when Sprout scampered by in his stripey glory, meowing at the birds in the morning. But I fought the urge to hurry Chienne through her walk, taking deep breaths and practicing patience as she paused her trotting paws at every tree or random smell. Her tail wagged at other dogs and she lifted her head to be petted, jumping only a little when they startled her from an odd direction.
I moved one step closer to a near-impossible goal at work. I ate lunch with Adam and polished presentations between populating spreadsheets. I argued half-heartedly, looking longingly out windows toward the sunshine. I returned home with a guacamole-laden burrito to share with my dog and took pictures - the first I've taken in weeks - of some weeds in the yard.
And that's all there is to tell right now.