It was Saturday morning. As I came out of sleep I felt adjusted and rested. I blinked my eyes slowly until the red glare receded into three zeros preceded by one. WTF! How could it be 10 AM already? I barely make it to 8 AM most weekends without my eyes automatically popping open. If my laziness forces me back to sleep, then I usually don’t make it to 10 without being slammed repeatedly on my forehead with what I call lazy headache. I can’t sleep for long, even if I want to.
Then it came all flooding back to me. My boss is pushing me off the plank to wrestle in murky depths with sharks. If this was a pirate movie I might have the option to fight her before I leap to death. In real life, I’d better play nice if I ever want to work in this town again. I’m cooking up Don Cheatle maneuvering, but I’m sure that takes more effort than the actors on House of Lies expend memorizing their lines. I think I will just go quietly.
The sobbing that followed woke my husband. I’m sure that he meant well with whatever he said, but at that moment nothing could stop me from leaving a pool of salty wet tears on my pillow. Finally, I got up. I found myself collecting everything that had the Top Company logo on it. I am a little sickened by how Top Company weaved into every facet of my wardrobe. From mittens to scarf, key chain, and T-shirts; I gathered everything and deposited it into one of those plastic bins with the snap top. Maybe I will open the bin one day and not be so disgusted. It was pretty pitiful, like a scene in a Lifetime movie about scorned lovers.
I had an appointment to get to so I threw on sweats and my furry boots. I wasn’t hungry. I hadn’t been hungry since my meeting. I managed to put a banana in my bag and splash a few sips of water into my water bottle. In the foyer I passed the mirror. I was definitely losing weight. If I have to mix some depression sickness with my reborn, sexy, flat stomach, then I would rather have the ten pounds back.