Note: The following is a factual, compendious timeline of one totally average day in the life of a 6’4 foreign English teacher in
– You wake up. You’re feet overhang the bottom-end of your futon. Your heels have been resting on the tatami-mat all night. This happens every night. It’s been happening for almost two years, and so by now your heels have all these cross-hatched tatami-mat depressions carved into them. You’re pretty sure the cross-hatched tatami-mat heel-carvings are permanent.
– You stand up, barely awake, and slam your head into the ceiling light fixture. It hurts, but not that bad. The light fixture swings violently, emitting an ominous click-clack, click-clack.
– You take a shower. The wall-affixed shower faucet is located at about your neck-level. You have to hunch and contort your upper body just to get some water outflow on your face. You don’t wash your hair because your lower back is starting to cramp-up.
– You towel off and head back to your room to get dressed. You’re a little late for work, so you speed-walk. You’re thinking about what you’ll wear today. You’re formulating a lesson plan for your first period class and you’re trying to think of some way to get the one especially dumb kid on the basketball team to stop setting illegal screens. You’re contemplating all these things at once. You forget about that horizontal beam at the entry way to your bedroom. It obliterates you. The sound-effect is that of solid becoming liquid in an instant. Like bone going splat. You shriek and maybe pass out for a little bit, maybe not. You’re on your bedroom floor, naked, entangled in a bath towel, moaning. The tatami-mat is making cross-hatch carvings on your ass-cheeks. Your head throbs.