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This morning I did the most outrageous thing I have done in a long, long time. I intentionally skipped church and slept in. The former is even more shocking than the latter because my hubby and I are so embroiled in church activities that there is almost no way we can both miss church at the same time. However, this morning we just did it. I'd like to say that I was racked with guilt at the shame of just saying "no" to church, but it is very difficult to be guilt laden when you are under a thick nest of covers and are in the process of developing a sleep headache; so intense and long is your sleep. Maybe it has something to do with the New Year. I am exhausted just thinking that 2005 is upon us! When my son was born, a friend who had also recently had a baby and I were plotting their futures and when we realized the boys would be graduating in 2005, we were spellbound at the great distance of that date. "My gosh!" Kacy said, "2005 is SO far in the future!" "What do you think they'll have on their school jackets?" I pondered aloud, "'05?" This seemed so silly to me; I can't say why, but the thought of '0 anything was really too much for my brain to comprehend. It seemed ludicrous in 1987 to imagine 2005 would be upon us in a blink of an eye; leaving me, apparently, decidedly exhausted. I have to watch it because my mother has warned me countless times of the raging mental illness that runs in our family. People on one side of the family have been known to crawl into bed, either never to return or to spend months upon months buried beneath the covers, never to see the light of day or communicate with family members again. I somewhat like the sound of that. You see? I need to be worried. Very. Because I really, really liked my day of decadent sleeping. I felt like a teenager again when I arose the first time, around nine to go to the bathroom. Because although my sleeping skills are still intact, my bladder, it seems is not. So it took TWO trips to the bathroom to enable me to continue to sleep like a carefree teen while the rest of the world continued on its merry way. My hubby was tolerant but not exactly thrilled with my newly rediscovered passion for sleeping. The day before I had promised him I would rise early, BEFORE church, and go for a twenty eight mile bike ride; our usual trek, and the weather promised to be super naturally warm and lovely. Which, I guess, as it turned out, it was. It certainly LOOKED warm out my bathroom window on my two sleep-enabling trips. I think I mumbled something to him as he looked at me questionably during trip number two, something like, "mmmmbbllee laaaader" which translates roughly to "I'll go on a bike ride later." My pants should have burst into flames at that lie. By that point, it was all about the sleep. The sleep was all-consuming, all I cared about. I was like sleep junkie. My thirst for sleep was unquenchable and the only thing that could sate it was more sleep. My mom is going to be worried when she reads this. She will begin questioning me about my sleep habits and the unspoken (or perhaps she will boldly forge forward) question will be "have you done it again?" You know, skipped church and slept like a crazy deranged person. When she asks me that question, I am sure the answer will be "no." I frankly don't have time enough to indulge this lazy habit, and if I really thought about it, I am not sure I'd really want to. Once the deliciously slovenly delight in sleeping beyond twelve-hour mark would become the norm and not forbidden, all the joy would go out of it. Or so I tell myself. Because with the happy fuzzy head of a woman who has slept hours too long, I am dangerously close to teetering over the edge to a bad sleeping habit. Once that happens, all my newly acquired "good" habits like exercising and more healthful eating (okay, that one really hasn't started to happen yet, but would definitely not happen if I started to sleep all day long) would fall to the wayside. I would slowly morph into the shape of my bed, and one day would probably have to be removed by a crane when I had a heart attack or some such horrific ailment due to my life of inactivity. I'll leave sleeping
late to the teens in this family; save the occasional indulgence like this
morning. I don't want to cross the line to depressed; and I definitely
don't want to be removed from my bed by a crane.
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