The Next Day

Then afterword comes the “hangover”. In the end I slept until almost one in the afternoon (after lurching awake at seven in the morning spitting up into my mouth), despite the construction noise next door on a Saturday or indeed probably because it’s easier to sleep through it than suffer awake through it. My entire body aches, as if I myself had worked construction yesterday and not, instead, dragged myself back from the cliff of an autistic meltdown for the second time in days. Breakfast was nothing but a bowl of cereal and warmed up leftover coffee, because that’s all I have the energy to make. Which itself then runs the risk of keeping my resources so low today that just about anything could set me off again.