It’s only a matter of time before this becomes my reality once again. I’m not ready.
I never get anything done in August. I always have the best of intentions, but they just sort of fall to the wayside with all my other long-forgotten good intentions. There’s just something about August that paralyses me. I’m stuck in bed afraid to move for fear of things getting even worse. I mean, at least if I’m in bed, the worst that can happen is a) I have a heart attack and die, or b) my ceiling comes crashing down on me—both of which are highly unlikely scenarios. {I have excellent blood pressure, and am not a candidate for heart attack; and this house, though structurally questionable at times, nevertheless has held up so far, so why would it crumble today?}
So here I am, stuck in bed with a million productive things I could do to occupy myself if only I had the courage to get going.
Because that’s what it’s all about, right? Courage. It takes courage to leave the comfort of my plush, luxurious bed. I’m surrounded by mounds of pillows like unto the clouds, and linens spun of bamboo fibers (highly recommended, by the way), and Poor Kyle’s already gone for the day so it’s just that much more space for me to lounge…why would I want to leave? If I get up, there’s no guarantee I’ll accomplish any goals. There’s no guarantee I’ll even set any goals. There’s no telling whether I’ll be a success or a failure—it could go either way. If I stay in bed, I won’t succeed, no…but I won’t fail, either. Can’t fail if you don’t try. How’s that for an outlook on life?
Days like today make me so glad I don’t have children yet. You can’t ignore your life when someone else’s depends on yours.
Reading through this post, I can see how pathetic it is. My mother would be so disappointed in me. There’s a reason I don’t see “Stay in Bed: At Least You Won’t Fail” on motivational posters at my doctor’s office—it’s a lousy philosophy. If everyone hid in bed any time they wanted, we’d never experience the good bits of life—the croissants, the smell of fresh-mowed lawn, giant shiny red balloons.
The things that make getting up worthwhile. Image from here.
Of course I’ll get out of bed. Of course I’ll do the laundry and tidy the house and take a load of junk to the dump and possibly even shower. Of course.
It’s just, I really don’t want to.
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