I finally get up, after being stuck in bed, glued by the stream of thoughts or an early daydream that I want to finish. It's hard, getting dressed, with the stickiness of hesitation, wanting to move but--stuck. Ah, good--the running clothes somehow cling to my body, but now I'm fastened to the couch. Up. I know this doesn't take long, once I'm out the door, I'll be back within the hour. Not much time to invest. And yet. ( Sticking to the language of the main character of a recent read. Oy.) Finally, out the door. No turning back, now, I can rely on inertia to keep me going, until I'm back. I'm back. Oh, no. Now I'm taped to my clothes. Gotta get into the shower, this is easy and so much work. Out of the shower, and now I am absolutely cemented to the bed. Lying down. Prone. Stapled to the mattress, gooey epoxy closing my eyes.
Ekim walks in, surveys the situation, his wet-haired wife adhering to the covers, and says, "You're stuck."
How did he know?