I'm drowning upside-down.

Sometimes it jist don't pay ta get outta bed. I'm trapped in a limbo of
sorts, the grey of an overcast Valley afternoon, listening to old music in an
oversized dress shirt. My dog scratches the door anyway; the little thing is
oblivious to the torture his master is undergoing, despite the fact that he
smells 2 day's worth of body odor. My vision goes furry-black at the edges when
I stand up to let him in, indicating a low-blood pressure that I surely need to
remedy with a burrito or two. My last meal was this morning, several Harris
Ranch chocolate-chip cookies taken with coffee and a melange of pills my doctor
says I need for my treacherous sinuses. I taste the delicious chocolate on the
back of my poorly maintained molars as I swing the door to let my beloved
friend in. The sun pokes through the dense cloud cover for a minute, to shine
on my equally maintained pool, the overly dramatic rays of light beaming onto
this algae-infested hole as if God was saying "Hey; remind you of something,
jackass?"  The message, miraculously, makes it through my drug-induced stupor
and hits me with nostalgia so sharp that the scent of her body lotion threatens
to knock me over. My skin starts to itch as if I've been lying too long in a
patch of cool summer grass at night, and when I close my eyes, I can feel the
inertia caused by the world passing by. I tell ya, it was almost enough to make
me start my old hygienic routine again.