Sunday Funday

Sunday morning's light drones in through decoratively painted french doors, figures come in to focus as I begin my daily wake up ritual of understanding the universe all over again. My eyes sting as they greet the light, calling forth a hiss due to my retinas being seared very much like tuna-steaks. A petite black cat with glowing orange eyes chirps in acknowledgment followed by a 15lb gray and white feline elder chonk not-so-gracefully climbs to perch on my chest.

"Hi Isis-- hI wILEY" The second name choked out from sharp, heavy biscuits hitting my liver.. or maybe that was my spleen.

"Understanding the universe.."

I focus on my breathing, thankful for another day to find my path in this chaotic, hate charged political climate that is The Un-United States. I can hear the television in the living room on a popular favorite, How It's Made explaining how farming irrigation sprinklers are manufactured and set up in the field. Babe must be up already; I see that it is 9:00 AM. My right hand flops to the side to feel for my boyfriend and returns to the felines mewling for attention after fondling an empty space beside me. Especially the hefty round boy on my spleen, delivering morning scritches and coos as I let my body wake up.

Normally the first thought of the day is annoying, roaring pain from my lumbar spine. It shoots electrical zaps down my legs, causes muscle spasms and cramps, sciatica problema. This morning is different. I lift my torso, prompting Wiley to roll in to the nested covers of the bed, and kick my legs out from under the covers, carefully noting any changes in pain or sensation. Flexing my ankles and toes issues pops and snaps of tendons and joints warming up to movement. Isis watches me quietly with those bright orange eyes, blinking slowly before joining Wiley in morning snuggle time in the mussed comforter. Sleepy kitties smoosh themselves together and I smile, taking in the cuteness of my fur babies and allow that warm, fuzzy love feeling to rouse me to my necessary daily activities.

"Down the hatch." A full medication planner rattles as today's dosage plops in to my hand. My new normal. With this thought I sent the colorful pills in to my mouth, wrestling with a water bottle to chase them down my throat. I take a moment to reorient myself. Feet make contact with the carpet, toes wiggling before my weight shifts to stand. Both arms stretch out at my sides and rise to reach towards the /aesthetic\ popcorn ceiling of the apartment. I breathe in and flinch as a pop sounded from my sternum- My normal is sounding like a Kelloggs Rice Krispy treat.

My attention shifts to tie back the drapes, allowing more sunlight to fill the room. The cats squint and adjust their snuggle session accordingly on the bed, while my vision takes in the eclectic altar I crafted and tidied during the last full moon. I have a five tier bookcase on the wall between my side of the bed and the It holds many sentimental sundries as well as my top tier cannabis med station, second tier tarot, incense, and candles arranged aesthetically on the third tier. Witchery supplies and notebooks occupy the bottom two tiers. Crystal gems glitter under the new light, sparking a joyful feeling in my chest. Nag champa incense is lit, the smoke dancing in the morning rays. Again my attention and intention focuses on breathing, filling my lungs till my Dad-bod belly distends from all of my muscles making a conscious effort to draw in strength for the day. I appreciate and greet my guides and deities then move to the self care portion of my routine.

Then exhale the bullshit-

I mean.. exhale the negativity. Just /Yeet\ It from my space.

A gurgle from my body alerts me to toilet time. Instinctively I reach to the top tier of the bookcase to procure a cigarette and lighter, turning to hobble awkwardly around the bed towards the bedroom doorway. My head pops out to peer around the corner, flashing a smile as I see my babe laid out on the couch with How It's Made's Sunday Marathon still running. His nose is also in his phone simultaneously. Something that always gives me a flash of confusion. Another gurgle...Movement in my intestines....

"gOODMORNINGILOVEYOUGOTTAPOO."

I hear him return greetings, the tone in his voice picking up to mildly inflect concern and curiosity, as I'm fumbling for the fan and light switches that are homed on the outside of the bathroom door.

God damn I'm eloquent in the mornings. My awkward hobble turns to a frantic scuttle, reaching the bathroom to unleash the Kraken on our porcelain throne. This is fine.

Everything is fine.

The cigarette balances between my lips as the flame kiss lights the end. I know I have to stop. My plan is to stop smoking before this Samhain. It's October 4th of 2020. Something about the sting of inhaling menthol laced poisoned nicotine sparked a demented, masochistic, irrational joy. It numbs my mind temporarily, moves the bowels along, makes me smell like an ash tray, gives me an over productive cough, cuts my stamina with physical activities.. yeah..it's great. Not. Quitting the nicotine demons before Halloween. I can do this. Three or Four drags and I'm over it- sniping the cancer stick in an ashtray kept on a mini three tier bookshelf across from the toilet.

Breathe.

Today..I will dye my hair. Maybe. Domestic Sundays entail cleaning, tending to cats, and organizing or purging things. I try to focus on one room at a time or one task at a time but my blessedly busy mind tends to trail in to rabbit holes. ADHD, OCD, PTSD, Chronic Pain, and Empathetic surges of unpersonal energy make me want to be productive, plan to be productive, but lately rabbit holes are easier to fall in to even with the help of medication management and consistent therapy. I see whisps of energy, bursts, waves.. shadow people, spirits, ghosts, spooks. I have always seen and I am developing a greater knowledge on what I am seeing. Some are just passing through, some need help moving on, some are just chaotic and unbridled. In my past I kept a lot to myself because I was told by small town society that those things didn't happen in real life. "It's just to scare you." Labeled a freak and a misfit and on shaky ground with blood family I started to believe it was all bullshit. But I kept seeing it. The more I tried to ignore it the worse it got.

Mid meditation moment I flinch at hearing the hallway closet door open, rustling of bags and him talking to the four legged fur babies that are, I can only assume, weaving in and out of his leg stance with their tails straight up in friendly posture. "-the hell do you want?!" I hear him ask.. and they chirp and meow in response, him following them with a sigh.

I start to hear movement outside the bathroom door. That's my boo- He's waiting for water to boil for some Bella Luna Earl Grey tea, tidying litter boxes, feeding, and cleaning in the mean while. The dryer turns on and sounds of productivity begin to rouse the energy in the apartment.

Another spark of joy fills my chest.

I am generally the one to organize and clean due to me being home a majority of the time but he spoils me often.

I love that man. I love my life. Today is a good day. Domestic day. Sunday Funday.