The 25th Option

It’s 3:06 PM Pacific Time.
A Friday.
All of my required tasks to complete for my employer, have been successfully delivered on time and to my own standard, which is superior to the ask, which satisfies me quite a bit. I like doing work that I like doing as I imagine we all do.
A ticket to see an early matinee tomorrow has been purchased digitally and saved to my mobile. I want to go as early as possible because sitting for 2 hours in the dark after 5 PM and I’m a sleepy girl.
The gold under eye masks that I prefer have also been bought and are scheduled to be delivered to my home address sometime, tomorrow. Apparently I generally by the green tea ones, 18 more times than the gold ones but they make me look fancy even though no one is looking at me because I have them on at home watching TV eating breakfast but if I catch a glimpse of myself in a shiny surface I smile because I have gold patches under my eyes. How fancy. Who knows how they are supposed to work.
A lavender incense stick is burning, smoke wafting directly into the lenses of my glasses while I sip bottled water poured over ice into an American Horror Story Red Glass Mug that reads Normal People Scare me on the side. The glass is sweating. A vanilla candle burns. I light it whenever I have sat to write during this ritual I’m making myself do and if you have read all of the posts up to this point, you may have noticed I’ve mentioned the candle a few times. Threads. Threads are fun.
Two laptops are open, my personal one, that I’m typing on now, and the one for work- just in case someone needs me, since the day isn’t technically done for a little under 2 more hours. The bra comes off at 5. We can’t wait. Me and the boobs I mean.
I have on a hot pink tee shirt dress that I bought a year ago from a big box store website randomly, while high probably but never wore because I didn’t feel like I looked good in it when I tried it on because of all the rolls and curves in my body but today I thought, what am I saving this dress for, it doesn’t even have pockets- I’m working from home today so who cares if I don’t look perfect, the dress was supposed to be a comfy throw on, and today it would finally get used as designed. I actually lost a few pounds throughout the year because of the dress- I worked out hard, well hard for me for several months to look better in it and I look the same as the improved version although I’ve been lazy as hell the past couple of months but still, who even cares?
I own 3 pair of house shoes and today I’ve been in my favorite pair, the fuzzy blue ones I actually bought to attend a pajama party on a cruise ship this past May, that I only went to for about 10 minutes to take a photo that proved I was there, and left because it was entirely too cold and too late at night to be congregating with a bunch of snobby young drunks. Literally everyone on the boat had on some similar version of the same pajamas so taking that shit off immediately was also a plus. I’m not really into matchy matchy like that.
The costume jewelry necklace keeps me upright as I often want to lay down when I’m at home, and always on the sofa in front of the TV instead of the bed. The bed is for fucking and sleeping and occasionally a British Detective show I can fall asleep too and of course leg stretches and coordinating outfits but that’s it really. I have to wear it until at least 5, when I can take everything off and be at home me again. I’ll be laying down any moment now.
The only people I have spoken to today have been via Teams message or Text. And yet I’ve laughed out loud so far at so many jokes. My favorite messages have been from my 25 year old discussing the complexity of the perfect mix for sorbet flavors, as it is his summer mission to create a new refreshing treat. The man has seriously been at this since he was a child. I don’t think he’s going to surpass the fruity blast he came up with when he was like 10 and I told him so but I know that’s only fuel to the fire. The sun is shining. The overhead stove fan is on, so the incense moves toward it. The pink flowers outside my kitchen window remind me of my dress and I’m glad I finally put it on. I don’t know where I thought I was going in a pocketless dress any damn way.
Sadly, I don’t have much interesting to write about today friends but I’m trying to do what I said I would and post something every day until my birthday. It nears. Granted, I’ve missed a few days already, and have tried to cover it up by doubling up the numbers in my post titles, so I don’t lose track of what day it is, or give up on the whole idea entirely, because who cares, I’m only accountable to me. But making it to 50 is a not giving up on me kind of situation, so it can’t be undone. But that bitch, ugh. The one I share a brain with? Even when I want to stop doing anything, if it matters to her, she’ll grumble. Calling yourself a punk in your own mind is wild. I’ll have to hear the grumbling in my head that you didn’t do the thing you said you would and the whole thing starts questioning its tether to reality and pretty soon I’m dangling off the edge of madness with no through line. Happens all the time. But I want to give it up. Too old for this shit. So I’m typing. See? I said I would, and I am, even if no one cares, even if it doesn’t make sense, even if it is simple and incoherent and trivial. I won. You won, well we, I dunno, whatever, I did what I said I would do. I’m determined not to let me down. I put on the dress today that I bought a year ago just to give it all some oomph. All the day’s missions accomplished. Calm days actually aren’t so bad. Maybe we are on to something…