Turn off the lights and stumble through the darkness. The cold of my room makes my feet feel clammy and the only things I can feel are the creases in my socks. I step on something hollow and it collapses inward around my foot.
I should really pick up that empty box.
I brace myself on the white towel that without seeing I know is hanging on the back of my swivel chair. It is soft on my fingertips but coarse where I am gripping hardest.
Next time I will turn on the light by my bed first.
My lower leg finds something. The slight pain from the pressure of plastic pressing against my shin is irritating for a moment, but the softness of the layers of blankets, fleece, down and woven, supporting my knees tells me that I have found what I am looking for. I raise one leg and proceed to crawl across the surface of my bed to the head. Peeling back the covers I slide under them and onto the cold bedsheets underneath.
If only they would warm themselves without me.
Dissatisfied with the exposure of my shoulders I grip my bottom blanket and pull it upwards. Along the way it takes hold of the sheet and uproots it.
I’ll have to fix it tomorrow.
Squinting, I check the alarm on my clock not once, not twice, but three times, until I really believe I have set it and did not accidentally turn it off immediately after turning it on.
I still don’t believe it.
My arm retracts back under the covers and rests at my chest for a moment before migrating under my pillow. As I lay my head down the pillow is soft and welcoming but my ear piercings refuse to let me find a comfortable position without a fight. I twist and turn until I find just the right elevation so that the top of my left ear is not quite in contact with any surfaces.
I close my eyes and wait.