9 To 5

I’ve never heard anyone actually tumble out of bed and stumble to the kitchen.

Until Aggressive Walker moved in upstairs.

I thought Dolly was just exaggerating shit. Like I do.

But no. 9 to 5 is a real condition.

And my neighbor has it.

He falls. A lot.

At least three times a day.

I’m honestly a little concerned about him.

I’ve had a lot of time to listen to him fall. And then get back up and stomp angrily across the room.

Which I get.

It would make me angry to be falling all the time, too.

And dropping things. Just always dropping things. So that he has no choice than to start just kinda shot putting shit across the room. Onto the floor. Directly above my bed. Instead.

So much more efficient than trying to carry things without opposable thumbs.

Anyway. I’ve had a lot of time to listen to all of this. As I’ve been lying here. Reading. And self-quarantining. Waiting for my Covid test results.

I do appreciate y’all’s concern. And well wishes.

But after learning to sleep through Aggressive Walkers daily movements. (My brain adjusts quickly to new sounds in order to preserve my ability to sleep through any fucking thing.) I’ve gotten a lot of sleep. And actually feel mostly ok.

Outside of a headache that won’t go away and the mucous just kind of lingering at the back of my throat and the weird not quite bronchitis feeling in my chest. I’m fine.

Nausea is intermittent now.

I ate all the food last night.

And I feel pretty confident that once LabCorps finally sends me my negative result. Those psychosomatic symptoms will disappear.

(I keep telling y’all. I’m very susceptible to the power of suggestion.)

So I’m gonna probably try to take myself out for a run. Or something. After I finish continuously refreshing the LabCorps webpage.

While singing 9 to 5.

Loudly.

And off key.

So that Aggressive Walker feels seen.

Or at least heard.

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