Have you ever had one of those feelings that you really should not have awakened in the morning? I did that yesterday and missed writing. During the whole day, I just did not feel complete or full filled.
The day started with me being in some kind of stupor (not stupid... that goes without saying). I just could not get my head off the pillow; nor could I open my eyes for any specific length of time. My mind was awake, but my poor body was not. I lay in bed thinking, "It's time to get up!" I heard revilie, my mother shouting at me, even thought I felt cold water on my face. Still no reaction; I was glued to my bed with my eyelids shut. I knew I had arms and legs, but they did not work. What was my problem?
I had worked all weekend with my head lower than my butt ( not in it!). Bending over and doing the work on the floor of my daughter's house seemed to have taken its toll on me. Or maybe I was stuck in a real life version of "Groundhog Day" and I was Bill Murray's character. I kept dozing, waking, trying to move... dozing, waking, trying to move.
Finally, I succeeded in moving and my body slung itself over the edge of the bed, and my eyes opened as I was able to roust my bones from their aperture and get them perpendicular with the floor. It was a feat of both physical and mental strength. I felt good on the edge there, but still I had to become fully erect and gain the ability to put one foot in front of the other and march into the kitchen for a cup of joe.
My mind was not fully functional as I made a usual breakfast of a ham sandwich on toast, coffee and some grapes. I looked at (note I did not say read) the AZ Republic and played the morning news show in the background, not really caring about any event that happened outside the four walls of my humble abode the night before or early in the morning.
I teetered to the living room and turned on the flat screen to gaze at some TV that I had recorded over the weekend. The show went by fast and I can't really tell you what I watched. I do know, though, that my eyelids again betrayed me, and I felt compelled to return to the comfort of my bed. I had a choice... bed or pool. I could go float out in the pool, or I could crawl back betweeen the sheets. One offered soft gentle rocking, the other a cool breeze. After much cogitation on the matter, I decided that bed would be better as I would not have the peril of rolling into the deep end of the pool and being possibly being fished from its clutches. Three hours went by quickly and quietly.
When I awoke from what seemed like a long winter's nap, I drove to the airport and picked up my second born who was returning from a weekend of debauchery in Chicago with her friends. She had not forgotten Ol'Dad... She and my surrogate daughter had gone to Giordanos before they parted in Chi Town and the youngest of the fruit of my loins brought back enough stuffed pizza to satisfy a craving for a while.
My day ended with those old feelings of remorse for the day being put in their place. Amazing how a good slice of pizza makes the day seem better.
Doughnut
No comments:
Post a Comment