Strange how when you're away your brain selectively dissolves those moments of awkward discomfort that you've always disliked and begrudgingly performed. Case in point the morning routine of waking really early and preparing breakfast and packing lunch.
My mind was unable to register the nuisance caused by the alarm sometime before six and it was with a gentle tap of my cats paw who needed food that I was able to shake myself out of vacation mode and thrust full throttle into domestic dreariness.
Around seven in the morning the bed beckoned again and much against my inclination to plop horizontally on the bed I found myself doing exactly the same with darling cat in tow and together we made the most of our siesta for the next couple hours. Whaddya know?
Late again.
Waking late isn't painful, it's the realisation of all the pending tasks getting postponed by those many hours that makes the ultimate wound and what am I if not full of bruises these days?
So here I am.
Plucking covers off my couch and cushions to plunge into washing machine apart from wiping settled dust from the surface of this house.
The lunch shall be a meal of leftovers, one that I'm not particularly looking forward to but one must persevere.
It'll take me a while to get back into the flow of things but once I do, I shall be a stream meandering into an orderly pattern of everyday life.
Ah, the sighs I exude my darling.
No comments:
Post a Comment