Emerging from my Burrow

Last night I had a dream that I was on a gigantic space station. A lot of people lived there--it had libraries and classrooms and bedrooms and kitchens and it was all very colorful. At one point, the space station lost power and we were going to crash into Earth. Something/someone saved us just in time, but I have no idea how, because as soon as Dream Rachel learned that the station was going down, she began collecting every pillow, blanket, and mattress aboard in one room where she then nestled in and awaited impact. And yes, in my dreams I can carry and throw mattresses.

When I told J about this dream, he laughed and said that's what I would do in real life too. It's true--when faced with impending doom, it's second nature for me to curl up in a ball, swaddle myself, and hide under all my blankets where I wait out the catastrophe, emerging once it's gone. Anytime I was stressed out about a paper or test in college, my solution was to take a nap and hope I was smarter when I woke up.

My last post gives an idea of what I've been stressing over lately: my bike, my closet, my back. My room won't rearrange itself into something with feng shui, M and I started several hefty painting and gardening projects at work and he has a very short attention span, and we always seem to have dirty dishes at home. All of these petty things have piled up on each other and attached to my big fear as of late: that I have no idea what I want to do with my future. Friends, Brit and Brooke can attest to you that I am in bed before the nightly news is over.

Alas, there comes a point when More Naps is not the answer (SO HARD TO BELIEVE I KNOW)...and I've recently taken steps to emerge from the minor hermit lifestyle I've lived in these past few weeks. An amazing man named Jose came last week and re-installed my closet. He also HAND MADE our screens. I started seeing a chiropractor about my back/neck problems. Waking up with headaches was no bueno and after some testing, it turns out I'm in Phase I of Spinal Crapping Outage. So Dr. Estelle & I are taking care of that. This past Saturday, Brit and I hauled the infamous Schwinns up to Bryn Mawr and our lovely bike men, where they spent about three hours reattaching my seat.

I am fixing things that are stressing me out, blogging again, adjusting to my summer schedule, and overall being alive again. Alas, don't think that emerging from this burrow means I'm not still going to bed early...as soon as this posts, I'm crashing.

[Something we have started in my community, ending with a note of gratitude: for bike lanes, Dave Matthews,  our new foot scrubber, our porch garden in the shopping cart, and that summer fireworks have started and I can hear them from my bedroom.]