Bedroom Coffee

I moved my coffee pot to my bedroom last night.

Thinking that having the coffee right there would better motivate me to get up early.

And while it did. As evidenced by my writing this at 4:36am.

It also prevented me from getting my normal coma-like 7 hours of sleep.

Because my brain was so excited to have the coffee that close to us. That it woke me up every single hour saying, “Is it time?”

And I mean, it would wide awake me.

Which was doubly awful. Because then I would just be reminded that it is 79 degrees in my bedroom.

It’s 79 degrees in my bedroom for a few reasons. Because I want to reduce my carbon footprint in hopes that the earth will stop burning someday. And also, I cannot afford to cool this bullshit wide open two story floor plan house that is too big for me. Also, my upstairs unit doesn’t work.

And, I mean, I’d fall right back to sleep after checking the time. But for those two minutes and 38 seconds that I was awake every hour. I was miserable.

But here I am. At 4:42am. Awake and enjoying my coffee.

And I haven’t even had to leave my bed yet.

The reason for this is two-fold.

First. I need to start acting like I have a real job again. In case I actually have a real job again. In two weeks.

But also? Ok. Some of y’all saw my social media post about my bike riding attempt yesterday. Lemme walk you through the entire scenario. Because there was more to it. And also, some of you have not friended me on the Facebooks. Which I find appalling. And confounding.

So, I whined enough about my foot and ankle pain yesterday, yes? You know this is an issue for me?

I was using yesterday as my rest day. Some morning yoga and then giving my foot a break for the day.

But GJB’s voice. Talking about how much cycling gives you excellent fitness while giving your body a break. Kept playing in my head.

And it wouldn’t shut up.

And nobody wants GJB’s voice annoying the fuck out of them all damn day.

So I added cycling to my To-Do list.

And this fucking To-Do list.

Let’s talk about this bullshit for a second.

That fucking To-Do list is Fall Risk’s fault.

Because she mentioned it one day. And now I’ve got this app on my phone. That keeps collecting my To-Do’s. And then emailing me when I inevitably fail to do all of them.

I’ve currently got 26 overdue To-Do’s.

I’ve apparently got some emails to read, as well…

Anyway.

So I’ve got cycling on my To-Do list yesterday.

So, around 7:30pm. When I felt the world had sufficiently cooled to a smolder. As Rogue tried to make me think I’m crazy because I said I’d only watched the first few episodes of “The Old Guard.” Which is actually a movie. That I watched all but the last 15 minutes of. And thought I still had a few episodes left…

I can’t actually explain that to you. I don’t know why.

But about that time. I decided to check cycling off my To-Do.

So I dug some compression shorts out of my wardrobe. Yup. I sure do have a wardrobe.

And here’s where things got real dark for me for a while.

These shorts.

I’ve worn them without issue for a few years now.

I think the last time was only a few weeks ago.

But as I tried to pull them on.

Sweet mother.

They got as far as my thighs and said, “nuh-uh.”

It took me several minutes of cursing and a lot of ass wiggling to get them on.

And once I finally managed to get them in place. I realized there was a hole right in the middle of my right ass cheek.

Well, I can not even care about that.

Found a bike helmet.

Which requires that you take all the hair piled on top of your head down. And pull it to the back of your head.

Apologized to Jeannie as I ruined her really extensive webbing to remove the road bike from its cradle.

She didn’t even acknowledge me. Even she’s pissed about this weather.

Walked it down my driveway. Because gravel. And also I’m not sure I remember how to stop on a downhill.

Got to the road. Secured my helmet. Swung my leg over the bike. And started peddling.

Ok. I didn’t start peddling immediately.

I was pregnant with my eldest child the last time I rode.

And despite that dumbass saying, “It’s like riding a bike.” Which implies that you never forget how.

I forgot how.

I think maybe the issue is not me. But the peddles. My feet wouldn’t fit on the peddles right. They need more room.

Which makes sense. Since my mom gave me this bike. And she’s all of 4’ 11”. Maybe. And has feet the size of a small child.

But I managed to maneuver my normal human adult-sized feet into a workable place. Without falling over.

And started riding.

And it was fine.

Bumpy. Like, really bumpy. But I was still on some gravel. So I didn’t worry about the rough ride.

At the end of my short road, is a fairly significant hill.

Started up that. Thinking things would get better. Because it’s paved.

Panicked a bit as I realized that I have no idea how in fuck to shift gears on this thing.

Also realized that the paved road still felt bumpy.

Started wobbling uncontrollably.

And as I was finally surrendering to the gravity that was pulling the bike and I completely over.

I realized through the panicked haze.

That the front tire was flat.

Completely flat.

It’s possible. And even likely. That the back tire was also flat.

But that was not within my field of vision.

As I was on my way down. To the earth.

I mean, I fall while running. A lot.

But there is something way more helpless about falling on a bike.

Thankfully. The house I was in front of is unoccupied.

And no one else seemed to be outside.

It’s possible that my new neighbor. In the next house. Was watching from his living room. Calling to his wife. Telling her to “come look at this dumbass out here.”

But it’s fine. I doubt that would be the first time someone’s said that about me.

I jumped right up. Because pride is more powerful than pain.

Walked that bitch back to my house.

Told Jeannie, “Sorry I destroyed your home for this bullshit.”

(She said it was absolutely worth it. Which, I don’t know how she even saw me from that side of the house.)

Walked back into my 79 degree home. Which felt like the arctic tundra after being outside for 10 minutes.

Spent 20 minutes wrestling those damn compression shorts off of my ass.

Returned to my couch.

And told the world about my failure.

So, that’s why.

That’s why I’m sitting here. In my bed. At 5:13am.

Finishing up my coffee.

So I can do fitness before the fire temps consume the earth again.

And maybe. Just maybe. Slow the speed at which fat is accumulating on the lower half of my body.

And possibly I need to figure out how to put air in my tires…

2 thoughts on “Bedroom Coffee

  1. I feel you. I attempted to ride a bike again after 26 years. It took me two months of stuttered cycling weekly to get my brain to get it’s shit together enough to stay balanced and not have a massive panic attack every time I passed a dried leaf or a small twig on the road. Traffic was a no-go. The amount of times I fell off that thing, thankfully onto grass, or a ditch was innumerable. We have an understanding now. I won’t cycle too far if it stops trying to kill me. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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