Sometimes my computer’s fans start whirring rather loudly, like my computer is reminding me, “I’m a machine!” I never really notice the noise until it suddenly stops. It’s always sudden. And it reminds me of the noise of a plane’s engine turning off, or maybe it’s the noise when the cabin door is opened, either way, this noise (or the cessation thereof, I suppose) that does not make me feel anything in particular on planes makes me very nervous when it comes from my computer. Every time I hear it, I’m certain that this is going to be the time that my computer turns off. Forever. I don’t know why I think that, or why the fear never prompts me to clean the excessive number of files from my hard drive, or close twenty of the fifty tabs I have open, or try to listen and see if I only notice the fans when a program is frozen though in reality they consistently wheeze for attention. Subconsciously I must crave the occasional minor adrenaline rush.

For the past couple of weeks I’ve been uncharacteristically lethargic, which I had decided was acceptable and even deserved over break (which wasn’t really break for me, just the beginning of the forever-time-blob). Last week, though, it started getting old. I kept sleeping through all the alarms I set, and even when I did get up, it took hours to get myself through breakfast, a(n insignificant) workout, and a shower. For the most part I blame the temperature of this house, which rests around subzero at all times, especially in my basement bedroom. Whereas jumping out of bed at my apartment only meant leaving slumber and softness, leaving my bed here means my hands and feet will soon be numb again. It sucks. Also unhelpful is my lack of obligations–why rush out of bed and onward to wakefulness when all I have to do is babysit at 3, if that? My point is that I miss averaging 4-6 hours of sleep per night because I am crazy.

I have yet to be granted employment, so this week’s solution to oversleeping is yoga. Yoga Shelter lets new students have an unlimited week of free classes, which is fantastic because I’m in no position to pay for any of Metro Detroit’s very expensive yoga (see lack of employment, referenced in the previous sentence). So today I had my first yoga class in West Bloomfield, where the teacher wore a lot of make-up, very big earrings, and didn’t use any Sanskrit; yet I still liked her much better than Sloane Montgomery. Tomorrow I’m going to attend a class taught by Lila Lazarus, former TV news personality. I love free yoga!

And then there’s this.