Monday morning after a late Sunday night. The alarm ringing. I don’t feel like getting out of bed. But I must. But I don’t want to.
I turn over and try to sleep a few more minutes, not remembering if I hit the snooze button. The alarm rings again nine minutes later. I shut it off. I have an 8:00 meeting, which means I have to catch the 7:20 bus, which means I have to get out of bed. Now.
Curled up on my side, I roll onto my back—a slight emergence out of the cocoon of warmth and sleep. Steady rain pelts the windows, which makes the thought of rising even less appealing.
I try to sit up, to just get going. My head lifts, a suggestion of motion, but too much of me just wants to stay in the snug comfort of bed. No. I roll back onto my side. What if I didn’t go to work? What if I stayed here all day? How long before someone phones or comes looking? Continue reading The Thought of Getting Out of Bed