Twisted

At 3:16am, when Tony crawled into my bed, shoved me into the middle and kissed me on the cheek before snoring again, I was grateful for the solid two hours of sleep I had received. After all, I was in and out of ten minute intervals of sleep since 10pm... ten minutes of sleep, twenty minutes of reading until my eyes grew droopy again, ten minutes of sleep, twenty minutes of reading... by the time 1am rolled around, I was so annoyed, it was, well, rather annoying.

At 5:12am, I was grateful for that three hour sleep, and actually felt refreshed. So I got up. Now I'm beat again.

Over the past eight weeks, my body has taken a beating. The backache is back, the headache that I had finally gotten rid of at the start of my separation is back, my eyes look like I should be an extra for the Michael Jackson "Thriller" video, and my hair hurts.

Inside and out, wet, twisted and wrung out. I am hanging to dry now - much more wrinkly and undefined than when all of this started. But I suppose that in time, the sun will warm me, the stiffness will soften and I'll be blowing in the breeze again, a little worse for the wear, but moving. And then maybe my hair will stop hurting.