I just spent the entire evening doing nothing – something I long to do almost every minute of every day.
The kitchen is a mess, the laundry is unfolded, the bounty from Costco is still piled up on the table. Yet? I sat in my chair all night… doing… nothing.
And now that I’m moving this party to bed, do I feel refreshed? Relaxed? Rested?
Nope. I feel guilty, unproductive, and lazy.
What IS this crazy relationship I have with busyness, anyway? I got three hours of sleep last night, so yes – I’M A LITTLE TIRED. I fell asleep some time after 2am and my alarm went off at 5:30, so yes – I SAT IN MY CHAIR STARING AT THE WALL.
I think that’s grounds for not hauling a few laundry baskets up the stairs, don’t you? So why do I feel like such a jerk? It’s not like I stayed up until 2am on purpose – I simply couldn’t sleep.
And seriously. Laying around in my pajamas while someone else acts responsible is, like, the best fantasy I have right now. I don’t even dream of running away (anymore) – I just want a couple hours to remind myself what it’s like to have a couple hours.
My dysfunction is so fickle: I WANT! I DON’T WANT! I WANT!
Right now, though, I want sleep.