Sleep eludes me again, as I was foolish enough to err from my put-myself-to-bed-like-a-child routine. I vow to myself that I will stick with the routine and not play with it ‘for science’ again.
My friend from high school said that he struggled with Day 8-10 in MIQ the most. I don’t know why words like that have so much power over my psyche, but they do. It acts not so much as a ‘this was my experience’ as ‘this will definitely also be your experience’. A strange prophecy, that, just like Macbeth, I become doomed to fulfill. There must be a way to turn that off, but I’ve not yet fully figured it out.
I have had a couple of quiet days where I’ve not sought as much interaction from my loved ones, and thus had more time for watching ‘The Rookie’. I really should’ve chosen a show where the episodes vary a little more, but I’ve started now, and I’m no quitter.
I get a call from reception while I’m talking to Jared that I have a package waiting! My friend Jaime flew up from Whanganui this morning with some goodies from her and my mum. How exciting!
I head down and fetch the package, tote it upstairs and continue about my day. I know what is in it, so I don’t open it straight away.
When my back starts aching early afternoon, I open up the package to fish out the personal massager. (A back massager and nothing else) I discover that there’s also a stash of beautiful dark delicious looking cherries! Yum!
There’s also a stash of mani/pedi essentials – polish in various flavours – and a crackle one! – remover so I can just do a different style every day if I want, and a nail file. This might be the first time in my life I’m capable of sitting still for the requisite amount of time so as to not fuck up my nail polish.
I watch shitty TV and play inane games on my phone until 7, run myself a bath, complete with bath bombs from the care package, luxuriate until pruny, then hit the hay. Bliss!