When the well is empty

This morning I actually did the 20-minute workout I always say I’m going to do, and then don’t. After that I took a long, hot shower, so hot I was on the verge on passing out by the time I was done. While in the shower, I properly washed my face, which I had neglected to do the night before (gross, I know), including exfoliating. I deep conditioned my hair, and shaved my legs. When I was done, I opened the bathroom window and felt the cold air and watched the bathroom door open and close itself of its own volition, probably something to do with air flow and not ghosts. After I combed my hair and squished mousse and gel into it, I put on my favorite sweatshirt and one of my favorite t-shirts, the color of which is somewhere in between bone and pink. Then I made tea, because I am trying to chill the eff out with the coffee, and sat down to write my morning pages. I wrote about my dreams last night, which included having an essay published in The New York Times and it