Eyes open.
Paralyzed. You can not move your body.
Soon the morning insanity loosens its befuddling hold. Not paralyzed after all – there are just fifty pounds of blankets weighing you down. Warm and secure. This must be what it felt like in the womb. What a fan-damn-tastic way to wake up.
Cozy in a yurt at the foot of Mt. Everest. You spend some time luxuriating in this surreality. Then you steel your nerves to venture outside to try to catch a sunrise on the roof of the world.
The cold stops your breath. Even with all your warm gear on you have to jog around to stop your body from quaking. The thought of exposing any skin prohibits the consideration of going to the bathroom – you fear certain things would freeze to other things and make life very uncomfortable. It appears you were excruciatingly lucky last night because now the entire valley is filled with clouds, and you would never know that Everest was back there. You see the sun start to light up the highest surrounding peaks, fumble through your gloves for some photos, and dive back into the yurt for hot tea and burning yak dung. Heaven.
