Bed Warm, World Cold

Exploring Sloth Life & Emotional Support Chickens

Another 19 degree morning. I had already fed Lucy her 6:30am breakfast and had launched back under the heating blanket with frozen feet and a drippy cold red nose when my phone tinged with a new text message. I slid one hand out from under the covers and swiped the phone back under. My daughter and I exchange texts every morning when I am away - a way to cheer us both up, connect, and wish each other a beautiful day.

As per custom, she says “Good morning” and asks how I am doing. Some mornings I cheerily type back “great” or send a perky gif to make her smile but today, today I was feeling none of that. It was the one year anniversary of my mother’s burial and while I wasn’t thinking about it, my body knew it and was giving me the hide and don’t come out vibes that come with deeply unsettling and unresolved grief.

So, I text back “okay” and then tell her I am considering exploring a sloth life. There is a pause in the text chain…tiny dots blinking as she types back.

“Bed warm, world cold. It’s a good day to be a sloth.”

I reread this several times, unpacking all its good advice and understanding. She gets me, I am thinking. Physically the bed is warm and the world is cold. But really, the bed is safe, nurturing, and loving and right now, I feel as if the whole world is cold, uncaring, and unsafe for me. I don’t want to get up and face a day of conflict, blame, grief, legal letters, and accusations. I don’t want to hear how I need to do this or why don’t I have this yoga practice or wouldn’t it be nice if I did a 30 days of yoga each year. I don’t want to hear complaints about things that work and don’t work and how everyone thinks they know what you need to do right now. I want NONE of this.

Sloths don’t care. And if they do, they are slow to show it. The thing I love most about sloths - they are in NO hurry to get anywhere or do anything. They enjoy la dolce vita - the sweet life - better than anyone else I know…even cats. Lucy loves my sloth exploration. She knows it will include lots of pets and a warm blanket all day and attention for her.

So I begin to read my favorite writers Substack post and in it, her guest writer talks about emotional support chickens. I think “WHAT?” And then I read it more carefully and she describes crocheting an emotional support chicken for her upcoming surgery. I think, what is an emotional support chicken? Google. Etsy has thousands of emotional support chickens and chicks available in every size, shape, and color imaginable. It’s a thing. I send the link to my daughter, the newly anointed and passionate crocheter in my life and she responds - “who would have thought?” followed by “I bet I can find a pattern for it.”

And so Ellen the emotional support chicken finds her way into my life. She has comforting eyes and a very round body that fits right in the crook of my arm. Lucy is a bit jealous but last night she used Ellen as a pillow so I think everything will work itself out.

But I digress. Sloth day. I do finally come out from under my heated blanket but I choose to NOT engage with any social media OR emails. This is wise I think. I am a fragile, new sloth and need to be careful. I won’t say that the day was great or better or perfect. I won’t say that the day after when I had to read the demanding emails, negative messages, and deal with exploding conflict on the legal front was at all fun, but at least I know this - I can take a sloth day because “bed warm, world cold” and I now have an emotional support chicken named Ellen.

Aprille Walker, The Muse Beguiled