Well, sleep failed. I took some Claritin D around 3:00 and spent the rest of the evening trying to stay awake. Finally, I decided I would just get up early in the morning and do homework, and so crawled into bed. A half hour of good sleep later, I woke up sweating and trying to find a cool spot... and haven't been back to sleep since. Dang. It.
So, that being that, I can no longer justify not accomplishing anything (though I do certainly still feel a bit groggy... just not enough to pass out).
New candles... Pumpkin Spice and Warm Apple Pie. It smells like autumn in our living room, and that makes Niki one happy camper. Minus the allergies, I'm happiest on a partly sunny fall day, high of around 60, with crimson, goldenrod, and sepia leaves floating down around me. WalMart and Walgreens have their Halloween stuff out now, and I completely walked down the Halloween aisle with a goofy grin on my face.
Jeans! Jackets! Frosty mornings! Gentle rain! Colorful trees! And allergies. Oh well.
The other day, I was sitting in my room, trying to motivate myself to do some homework (and failing, of course). I rather drifted off into a philosophical daze and found myself staring at the mess that is my room this week. I found myself wondering when my room had gone from spotless, with the bed made every day and clothes cleared off the floor, to the aftermath of a tornado. Finally it hit me.
My bedroom is a mood ring.
My roommate's personal mood ring is her appearance. When she's feeling like she and I felt today (i.e. like crap), she wears her glasses and putts around the apartment in her sweats. If she's feeling energetic and perhaps a little wild, her short hairdo is spiked up and she goes for the rocker-chick look. If she's in a sappy or a glamorous mood, her clothes and make-up reach unparalleled heights of chic.
Meanwhile, while my own ensembles do tend to resemble how I feel, my clothes have been known to lie. More than a few times, I've gone to Wednesday night service with my most flattering shirt on, my hair styled "just so", and my favorite boots adding that perfect boost to my height--but all I felt like doing was hiding in my room and never coming out again.
My bedroom, on the other hand, rings with sincerity.
I started out the semester a little reluctant but determined to do things right. I was going to read my Bible upon waking up first thing every morning. I intended to embrace every moment with my friends that I could--seeing as how it's the last semester. And finally, I was going to make That Boy mine. Yup, this was the year.
My room was beautiful. My bedside tables gleamed immaculately. The throw on my bedspread lay just right. Even my desk, which I can never keep straight for the life of me, was perfectly arranged.
Fast forward two weeks later. I'm stressed out, and my daily migraines have returned with a vengeance. The Boy has once again inadvertantly broken my heart. I definitely woke up this morning realizing I had not done my homework the night before, and my morning prayer-and-meditation time was carelessly shunted to the side.
My room is a certifiable disaster area. The floor is littered with papers and books. I can no longer see the surface area of my desk (darn... I was doing so well!). There's a pile of clothes in the corner now reaching about waist-high. I cannot get up in the middle of the night to take a tinkle without nearly taking a nasty sprawl.
Looking back, I realize this happens all the time. As soon as my spirits start to droop, I grow negligent. It starts with an emory board that I knock off the bedstand and intentionally don't bother to pick up. Within 48 hours, I'm no longer making the bed, I trip every time I walk, and I simply don't care.
Sometime next week, something will change my outlook. Either Mr. Boy will break up with his newest beloved, or I'll just be completely inspired by the autumn feel in the breeze. I'll come home, look around my room, and go on a cleaning frenzy. By the next morning, the blinds will be open, and the greens, violets, and blues of my room will smile at me in their perfection.
So, my dear readers, please share: what's your personal mood ring?