Today started in a sleep-deprived fog. By that I mean it started before noon. Last week I rescheduled a chiropractor appointment for four in the afternoon today, and I was so proud of myself. I thought, I can sleep in, not set an alarm, it will be glorious. Then a few days later the ladies I’m working with on a group dance routine asked if we could meet today on their lunch hour. Well, shit, so much for sleeping in. Really, it was a matter of priorities. As dedicated as I am to my night-owl routine, I’m also dedicated to getting paid, since these hair products aren’t going to buy themselves. So, in a haze, I woke up, took a shower, and went to work. Talk about being an American.

It almost felt patriotic.

Thankfully, the ladies were worth getting out of bed for. They’re working their tails off and have made a lot of progress. As a teacher, it’s rewarding. Plus, they’re funny, and it always helps when people are pleasant. Once I had a married couple get in a fight with each other and walk out. There was even a bit of arm waving along with raised voices–the whole bit. Awkward, but at least I had the rest of the hour to look at Facebook and pick my nose. Anyway, when the ladies were packing up today, they asked what I had going this afternoon. “Oh, I’ll probably read a book,” I said, then started explaining that I’d gotten a new book yesterday at the library even though I was already in the middle of five or six others. I always say this sort of thing like an apology, as if it’s something to be embarrassed out. I think, God, Marcus, get your act together. Can’t you read one book like everybody else? Well, one of the ladies said, “You’re a reader,” like, that’s what readers do.

Oh, yeah, I forgot–I’m a reader.

For lunch I went to Tropical Smoothie Cafe. This is a place I’ve recently fallen in love with, except for the fact that it’s consistently butt cold and the music they play is terrible. It’s always knock-off versions of popular songs, something that might happen if Justin Bieber and an elevator had a baby together. Not pretty. All that being said, I’m somewhat addicted to the Chai Banana Boost (with peanut butter), so I force my body to endure the frigid temperatures and “today’s pop music meets the ukulele” in order that my taste buds may be delighted. Anyway, I remembered when I got there that the restaurant offers a deal on Tuesdays–a smoothie, a pita sandwich, and a side for seven dollars. I can’t tell you how excited this made me. I felt like I’d just won the lottery.

Who, me?

Ironically, this evening my dad was flipping through a coupon magazine he got in the mail, and as he was practically getting wet over the buy-one-get-one meal deal at Village Inn, I thought, This is so embarrassing. Last night I went to the gas station to pick up a pizza for my parents, and they sent me with a discount card they bought from some high school kid who I imagine was raising money for a new band uniform–you know–the kind with the hat that looks like a toilet bowl cleaner turned upside down. Well, a discount card seems more legitimate. I mean, it’s plastic–like a Mastercard. But a coupon you cut out of the newspaper? It just seems so–ordinary.

I realize this is all very judgmental and hypocritical of me.

After lunch I sat in my car and read the book I got yesterday–The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman. The sun was coming through the glass, the insulin from lunch was kicking in, and I could barely keep my eyes open. Sometimes when I feel like this, I think of my bed and start singing that song by The Kinks—So tired, tired of waiting, tired of waiting for youuuuuuuu. Anyway, I read for a while then headed to my chiropractor/massage appointment. My chiropractor said I was practically back to where I was before the car accident, so we’re backing off of weekly appointments.

In one sense this news is freeing because it feels like a graduation. In another, I’ve come to like going to the chiropractor. Today all the staff was up front, and everyone knew my name. It was like Cheers without the alcohol. Although I guess there was a Keurig in the waiting room. Plus, there was Christian music on the speaker system, so maybe was like a bar–Christian bar–one where the smell of coffee and the sounds of praise waft through the air simultaneously, all while you get rubbed on and have your back cracked. Anyway, maybe I’m codependent, but I just like being there. Today I used the restroom, and there was a special dedicated bluetooth speaker on a pedestal in the bathroom. It was turned up really loud, so I got to listen to worship music “on high” while sitting on the toilet. It was–what’s the word?–uplifting.

After the chiropractor’s, I came home and took a nap–hard. I think I slept for a few hours and only woke up because my dad was on the phone with my aunt, practically shouting about the plot of some television show they were both watching. “Everyone thinks she’s innocent, but she’s really a whore and a murderer. Just you wait and see.” Or something like that. I was in the middle of a strange dream at the time, and the combination wasn’t the best way to wake up.

Tonight I finished reading The Ocean at the End of the Lane. Honestly, I’m still not exactly sure what the book is about. As a writer, this disturbs me. But as a reader, parts of the book are pretty magical. It centers around an old man who goes back to visit his hometown, where, as a seven-year-old, he knew a mysterious girl who said the pond at the end of her road was actually the ocean. Toward the end, the old man, in referring to how he’d grown up, asks one of the central female characters if he’d “passed.” She said, “You don’t pass or fail at being a person, dear.”

As I’ve thought about it, this line brings me a lot of comfort. You know, you grow up in school and you’re always getting graded on something. A’s and B’s for this, gold and silver stars for that. As an adult, it’s easy to walk away with the idea that everything in life is pass or fail. Maybe you think it’s better to get up early than to stay up late, or that finishing a book is good and not finishing a book is bad. Personally, I have a small hang up with using coupons, as if I’ve “passed” life because I have so much money that I don’t need them. But the truth is that life doesn’t work that way. Some days you’re tired and some days you’re full of energy. One minute you’re blissed by your tastebuds and the next minute you’re pissed that you’re eating lunch inside a meat locker. Come graduation day, you’re excited to move on but also terrified. It’s simply the way life is, and all of it’s ordinary. What’s more, I’m certain, is that no one who matters is passing out grades.