For the last week and a half, I have been in the lovely state of slothdom. I had a staycation that often meant staying in nightgowns until noon. Of eating a leisurely lunch. A long chat with friends. Not hunched over my desk in a scarfing session or hastily tapping out a text to a friend. Going to bed when I wanted to. Not tied to the tyranny of the clock. Getting carry-out just because it was my vacation. Going to see movies in the afternoon just because I could. Yes, it was rejuvenating.
However, this morning was a completely different story. 5:30 a.m. came early. When the alarm sounded the dog barely lifted her head from the comforter. She looked at me with a bleary and squinty-eyed stare. I shuffled into the kitchen, grabbing a bowl with one hand and the box of cereal with the other. The morning routine seemed confining. I was back to watching the clock, to drinking my coffee standing up, not surrounded by the morning paper.
At work, it was no better. At eleven o’clock I was looking around for a smackerel, as Pooh would say. I yawned during a meeting of minutia. By 2:15 I longed for a nap and silently wished a bed would appear under my desk. But there is a bright spot: the weekend is only a day away.
I’m Rosie Klepper and that’s my perspective.