Welcome to MR’s Sunday Scaries Diaries, where haunted humans chronicle their end-of-the-weekend terrors (plus the events that led up to them) in an effort to make all of us feel a little less alone in the fetal position come Monday morning. First up: Amelia.
Falling asleep is easy for me. So long as I am not in a full upright position, so long as I can lean, even a little bit, on a diagonal against some sort of steady surface — and so long as there’s a bit of pressure on my eyelids — I can pass right out, day or night. And I do, often. It makes being an active passenger in a car or an awake person on a boring date very difficult. It also makes watching movies or television shows to completion impossible, which is why, in an effort to power through my Sunday Scaries until it’s time to go to bed, I eat.
Sunday, 9 a.m.
This is the third time I have woken up this morning. First time was to pee, second time was to look for my phone and the third time — right now — is to have a mild anxiety attack. Things that are causing my heart to act like an extra in the critically acclaimed movie Drumline include the amount of money I spent last night, the amount of alcohol I consumed yesterday thanks to a sun-induced early start, the very strange argument I got into with my friend (and whether or not we’re currently in a fight), exactly how rude I was to that one girl who was rude to me first and, of course, every weird, awkward and awful thing I have ever done in my entire life, starting with being born!
I am on the floor of my share house, by the way. The AeroBed deflated around 5 a.m.
Somehow no one is awake. Thirteen people are scattered throughout this house in various rooms and beds and yet not a peep. I wonder if the apocalypse hit while I was sleeping and if that means everyone is actually dead. Panicking a bit about that.
Decide to sit on the porch so that I can enjoy my anxiety al fresco.
There is no food in this house except for chips.
Finally, one of my friends is awake. We debate waking up a third for the food mission and decide against it. We both need coffee and can’t handle the heartbreak of our morning spot potentially being out of bagels. Not even sure how that happens at a breakfast place but we put up with it for its close proximity and promise of a rare celebrity spotting. I don’t care about celebrities who aren’t Oprah or Connie Britton but I do think it’s funny to catch celebrities in their home clothes.
That took forever as anticipated. Spent $65 on a bacon, egg, and cheese on everything with avocado, salt, pepper and ketchup plus the iced coffee, a Diet Coke, an unsweetened iced tea, a ginger kombucha, a sandwich for later, chips even though there’s plenty back at the house, cookies and two pastries that I didn’t bother to get the name of.
B.E.C. and one pastry consumed. Chocolate was involved, whatever it was called.
Coffee was making me anxious so I gave it to the friend I didn’t wake up and pretended I bought it for her. Drank everything else. I want to take the early train home because I’m having work terrors about a story I need to research but I’m a little worried about how many liquids I just consumed. Hate using the train commode. It is a true death trap.
We’re taking a train back to the city at 1:55 which means I need something to occupy me until then. I cannot nap. I refuse to nap on Sundays because the wake-up is brutal and coma-like and terrifying. Naps are the tricky scammers of Sundays. Never trust a Sunday nap if you feel it coming on to you.
Snack: a guy in the house couldn’t finish his breakfast sandwich so I ate his other half.
The train’s about a minute late and there is an ice cream truck parked in the middle of the lot, right behind the platform. I calculate if I can run down and get something in time. I’m not sure. I’m also not sure if I’ll make it emotionally if I don’t, so I gamble.
Seated on the train with a Rocket Pop in hand. This should soothe me for about ten minutes total.
My teeth are blue. Also making a nap exception just this once due to my own inability to sit up straight, and you remember what I said about me and slight angles, right? Especially against cold windows.
Wake up because I remember I have a sandwich, chips, cookies and one more pastry.
Nap again. It feels easier than dealing with my emotions.
Back in my apartment with the air conditioner and Brand New blasting. For some reason this summer, the only music that will calm my nerves is a heavy hit of my high school soundtrack. My roommate asks if I’m hungry. I list everything I’ve eaten and say no.
We decide that we will order Thai whether I’m hungry or not. He isn’t either.
Finally an appropriate time to order dinner, we cue up Seamless and I solemnly swear that this time I will not accidentally send dinner to my office by accident.
Ordering: fried tofu, chicken satay with peanut sauce, Pad Thai with chicken, green curry, papaya salad and two ginger ales.
I forgot to actually hit “checkout” but don’t tell my roommate. Remember that my dad baked brownies and dropped some off, which is the weirdest thing he’s done in a while because he does not bake, but oh my god, I am so thankful for this out-of-character gesture. Don’t tell my roommate about this either.
He wants to know where the food is. I distract him with my wit.
The food has arrived! We divide the portions up into halves so that we can at least pretend we’re going to be civilized about this.
We’re both going back for seconds.
Do not feel well. We’re watching Tig Notaro’s standup on HBO On Demand and I’m laughing so hard despite the fact that I am crying inside with fear.
Remember that I still have peanut M&Ms. Eat some. Officially feel sick but starting to get sleepy despite the train naps. Was a little anxious about not feeling tired so now I can be less anxious about one thing, at least.
Brush my teeth so that I know I did one productive thing today.
Ignore every phone call and text message that comes in. I am “sleeping.” (I am actually trying very hard not to like anything on Instagram.)
It is time. I set my alarm for 7 a.m. tomorrow so that I can go to the gym and repent for each and every one of my Friday through Sunday sins.
Illustration by Emily Zirimis.